I collapse on the bed from the rush,

A drip, drip, drip noise can be heard,

I wonder what they are thinking as they lie silently in there dust covered beds,

Pleased?

Determined to shake the ground I walk on,

Make me feel anything remotely human,

Show some feeling,

But I'm numb,

Have been and will be,

My fingers edge closer to the pillow,

I'm leaving a trail of stains on the white satin sheets,

Once oh so perfect now so rotten to a core,

I have brooded enough for one day,

This porcelain skin is fading with aged reminisce of catastrophe,

So soon but yet too late,

My emotion gone,

This childhood is shortened,

And I am dead to a world so infected,

I would rather die true to myself than these people so blunt,

Break me as you please dear sir,

But beware of the demons that lie within,

You're not immune,

And this body of wounded secrets will lay here for an eternity from a sacred ritual,

A ritual I call barbaric,

They call it rinsing,

No, it's called damning.