I’M NOT YOUR STEPPIN STONE (HEY HEY HEY HEY)

Your boot is eager to come down
Upon my windpipe,
To crush and stomp out and
Server me from my connection to life,
Eager to dig in your heel,
Grind it into my chest,
Malice in your cold, dead eyes
As you lay me to rest!

Come and see our newest king,
O’ supreme overlord of all that exists,
No more room for us to breathe
For our continued existence makes him pissed,
Hands drenched in the blood of our kin,
Mouth tainted with the stench of death,
Proudly wearing us upon his skin,
Billions fall with a single breath!

Fists were smashed right into my face
As the insults were screamed over and over,
Kicking and flailing with all of my strength
But it’s no use; I’m only guaranteed a demise so much slower,
And they wonder why I cannot sleep at night,
Looking over my shoulder as I cross a path,
I’m haunted by him, the strangler of life’s light,
Doomed to flee from my home to escape his wrath!

Rivers of red have flooded the streets,
Tidal waves of crimson borne from pure deceit,
Burning carcasses are seared into my brain,
Hammering appendages upon soft surfaces drives me slowly insane!

A plaything for the master,
Or at least that’s what I’m told,
Can I be blamed for thinking they’re bastards
When their god cursed me to not fit their mold?

Perhaps some day it won’t be this way,
Yet I highly doubt I’m anyone’s priority,
Left in the dust after being torn and flayed,
At the mercy of a ravenous majority!

Hell is real, I see it every time I open my eyes,
Don’t tell me about your problems; from birth I’m despised,
Concoctions aplenty made just to bleed me dry,
It hurts so much, I’m no longer strong enough to cry!

Sentenced once I exited the womb…

Before I could walk, constructed for me was a tomb…

Upon me they will always tread…

My waking days are spent being full of dread…

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I NEED REMINDERS OF THE LOVE I HAVE

Cold, dark, soulless, murky…the room reeks of death, decay, and deviance. Your eyes dart around the room worriedly, crammed into a steel prison, that threatens to squeeze the very life out of you. Choke you. Suffocate you. Every time you move, you’re reminded of the hell you’re stuck in. Day by day, night by night (though you can’t even tell which it is anymore, and it wouldn’t matter), your hope diminishes. And so do the hope of those who are trapped here as well. There’s no escape.

You pray for death, for an end to the horror and agony. But…you’ve seen what death looks like. The screams haunt you to your core. The stench of torched, rotting, maimed flesh. Of spattered blood and harsh, heartless cackles. Seeing corpses of your potential brothers and sisters carted off into dumpster bins. Your skin flayed and beaten upon cold, steel tables, gutted with cold, steel tools. Occasionally you get glimpses of the terrifying malice in the eyes in your captors. How they show you nothing but pure hate. It haunts your dreams. You’re next. Soon.

If there is a God, then surely he cares nothing for you. He wanted you here, and others like you here as well. To suffer needlessly. To be mercilessly slaughtered and viciously cut up.

The entrance to this hall of nightmares begins to give away, after many jingles of the door knob, which is finally smashed open.

Oh no…

Usually close up by now. Have they decided to up the amount of torture to 24 hours? Round the clock? Sleeping in shifts so it can never end? Shall there be no more reprieve?

Everything only becomes more grave when a slew of bipedal scourges come walking in. But…they seem different. Not dressed in lab coats and masks and other such articles of clothing that have now come to signify only death. Instead, they come in wearing all black. Faces obscured. Dressed in outfits that look much less formal, much less menacing. But the most striking thing…is their eyes. Their eyes show no malice or contempt. A desire for your end, for your life to cease, and drag the process out as much as possible, seems to be strangely absent. It’s a different emotion. One of…compassion. Care. Love…

Is there hope after all?

Hurriedly, they break out devices, tools, that are made to sever the locks on the cages that keep you enslaved and always on edge. And with gentle, warm, non-threatening hands…they embrace. Whispering words of words of reassurance. All of your kin, everyone in there, are also freed from this terrible, terrible den of misery and suffering. They, too, receive the same treatment.

All of you are rushed out of the building, carefully yet quickly, with these mysterious strangers whispering to each other about what sounds like further plans. Plans of finding you and everyone else a home. A better home. A good home. One not of pain, but of affection. One where you are all adored, rather than despised. Where cruelty does not exist. It all seems so surreal, like a dream. Is this really happening?

Yes, it really is.

For the first time, you feel something so…unfamiliar. Something you thought yourself never capable of experiencing.

Hope.