Untitled
by Morgan Bartlett
October 10, 2011

 
I see them prancing
Through the meadow
Free animals.
Live while you can.
They are coming.
They are coming for you.

For joy.
For cruelty.
But not for hope.
A nightmare is happening.
I can't take it anymore.
I'm asleep but cannot wake up

What's happening to me?
The world’s turning upside down.
Help me.
I'm trapped.
I'm done.
It's over.

Mother is dead.
Father at war.
Brother is hiding.
I'm alone, under the sheets of my cold bed.
It feels like winter, but worse.

I'm losing my mind.
I’m a bomb about to go off.
But not yet.
I walk outside my house carefully
Quiet as a mouse.
I find red ink on the ground.
I hope it's not what I think it is.
I scoop it up into my hand.
Having a good amount.

I hear footsteps.
They saw me.
They heard me.
They think I'm the enemy.

I run as fast as I can with the ink still in my hand.
I come to a dead end.
This is it.
I'm done for.
I slowly write on the concrete wall.
I hear more footsteps, weapons.
I finish my word, rubbing the ink on both my hands.
Then slap near the word to make prints.

I fall.
Sliding my hand on the wall.
As I see my last look of the world.
I read.
HELP

Audio: 

Morgan Bartlett.mp3