five

I sit crouched staring at the windows.

Breeze blowing, whispering my name.

The sirenes curse calls me to get up.

The door has shut and locked.

No escape, no savior, no salvation.

Me alone, red streaked face, burning eyes.

No wound to the eyes sight.

The pain and scars are buried deep within.

No cries out for help, only a soft repetitious mutter.

'Baptism through fire.'

Thoughts dart through the air haunting my memories.

They flash before me and I cringe.

Breeze blowing, whispering my name.

Am I well?

Will I ever be?

Does anyone care?

I peer out the windows.

So many to choose from.

All fall so far down.

If I leap out will you catch me?

Or will I be burned again?

Will I break something deeper?

Do memories of the inflicted pain fade?

You are not my keeper.

My strength doesn't depend on your desire.

The pain fuels my passion.

The hurt reminds me I am alive.

If I crash and fall, let me lie.

I will get up again, eventually.