Truth be told, I have no idea when the dagger struck.
I never felt it.
It speared through me with the force of a hurricane.
It spread through my body,
Eating away at my insides.
Filling me with poignant memories of a fearless past,
And the dull realization of a bleak future.
I told myself, I needed to thinkā¦..
To try and comprehend the mind-boggling puzzle laid out by jeweled hands before me.
To try and decipher the secret,
And understand the un-named question.
The question that only answers itself with oblique strokes.
The question that shaped itself into a dagger,
And stabbed through my gut.
A single petal lies in sweaty palm.
The depth of its maroon velvet tickles my fingers, as they clamp hard.
Delve into beauty.
Swallow its naivite.
Bathe in sunshine.
I open white fist, and can feel innocence leak in mourning rivers,
Tracing a path over bony wrist.
And mocking itself into oblivion.
I open white fist, and expose.
Burnt Charcoal.
I lay myself down on white, pure cotton.
I feel inky black stain it through.
I tear at it with angry fists.
I scream at it with bleeding eyes.
I kick at it with bare feet.
And thus having done,
I lay myself on a bed of innocence, and silent prayers.
And close myself to harmony.
I brace the truth, and smile within.
I am Unknown.
Un-Wanted.
Un-Needed.
Un-Loved.
Un-Named.