The Hell Butterfly

-Stifle- : Daily Prompt

This life of mine

has been forever spent

under the thumb.

Her thumb.

His thumb.

Your thumb.

The thumbs of anyone

and everyone

who has appendages

that hurt enough

when pressed

into the back of my neck.

 

Can I make my own decisions?

 

The mask is clamped upon my face again.

Once more the turn,

the hiss of gas,

and you pump Blame into me

like deadly mercury.

I pull away

because you make me.

I try to reach for you,

for all of you,

and your response is

“you are hurting us”.

My pain is negligible.

My opinion unimportant.

“You are hurting us”.

 

Can I not express my pain?

 

In bedtime stories I resented Alice.

I never liked that girl.

I preferred the intricacies

of tea parties

and pocket watches

and mice in teapots

and happy unbirthdays

and twirling through dreams

contemplating

why a raven is like a writing desk.

I could never sleep then

and cannot sleep now.

I lie awake at night

and stare up at plastic stars,

stuck there long ago,

and make a wish

as one falls to the ground in the blackness.

My hands are shaking.

You did this to me.

I could never speak then

and cannot speak now.

You will not let me.

One more inhalation

forced through my throat.

I breathe because I must

and Blame pumps into me

like deadly mercury.

 

Yes, sir.

No, sir.

Three bags full, sir.

“Compliancy becomes you.”

 

You taught me to

do as you say not as you do

and so I shut my mouth.

I say no words that are not

scripted for me.

I play my part fantastically

and the world applauds the show.

Not my show,

yours.

The audience whose name is Terror

congratulate you

on a job well done.

I am returned to my cage.

I am your crazy girl

putting on your show

in felt top hats

and sequinned coats

and chase magician’s birds across the stage

and so disgust you.

When I go out on-stage

you tell me “break a leg”

and hate me when I don’t.

You see me eye the hangman’s noose

and roll your eyes.

Not one of you believe

that I could.

 

Can nobody tell me why?

 

I call to her.

I call to him.

I call to you.

I call to anyone.

I call to everyone.

I break my silence and scream

“tell me why!”

Not one approached me first

with answers

I have always wanted

yet waited until you

broke my resolve

and I needed you.

You do not see that I am scared,

that I desire,

that I love and hate you all.

You see only

broken wires

and equipment unplugged

and so you fix it

in the only way you know how.

“This will make you better.

This is all for you.

You are hurting us.”

Blood trails from my ears.

 

Can you forgive me?

 

Once more the turn,

the hiss of gas,

and you pump Blame into me

like deadly mercury.

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Prompt: Stifle. As such, this piece is entitled the same.

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