What was once
a pink, bustling hive
of information,
“You can do anything you set your mind to.”
Believing. Processing.
Is now a
charcoal blackened chasm
sedated, maligned.
Depressing.
To escape this
cerebellum prison
of grey
bars, locks and chains
is an impossible
matter.
Stockholm syndrome
without a captor
zombie
rejected human brains.
“Well it serves you right.”
That unflinching
whip-cracking tongue
makes a fist,
around a blade
that cuts deep.
Creates scars unseen;
scars underneath;
scars unbelieved.
Trauma
patient left cut to ribbons;
convulsing,
courtesy of what that
unflinching
whip-cracking tongue
thought was
right or wrong.
