Here.
They’re everywhere. Standing, sitting. Those without legs are propped against walls. They gape at me with hollowed eyes, they bleed at me with haunted outstretched fingers.
Sometimes I need to scream at them but I can’t, because they’re not really there. There is my guilt, years of repression and nothing else.
Once I thought someone else saw them but he turned out to just be a crazy person.
I know if I can find a white light strong enough to bleach them I’ll be at peace, cleansed. But I'd question if that works anymore.
Great things are never forgotten.
Jim M over 9 years ago
Very kind of you Doc, thank you
D.M. over 9 years ago
Where would we be without guilt and repression... good one!
Neil Murton over 9 years ago
Interesting take on guilt. Makes you wonder just what caused it. Nice work :)