And I say onto ye,
“Take ye all of it!”
I don’t want this anymore.
My face buried in leaves,
I scream.
I press harder still, for I can still hear the sound.
My lips part as salty earth attempts to muffle my cries.
It doesn’t work.
It never works.
Take ye all of it
I pray to the gods.
But they don’t answer
Because they never existed.
But yet,
And Still
Why don’t they help me
Burn it all down?
These leaves are beautiful colors that I cannot see
This earth so full of life that I cannot have.
Take ye all of it
So that I can revel in its destruction.
Let the ashes rain on me
Covering me until I am the tiniest dune,
Until I am forgotten,
Until I am alone
And at peace
In a shadow.
Burn away this thing that pretends to be hope
For that sound would be so…
Very…
Beautiful.

But they won’t

So instead I kick my feet back and forth
Like the child I never was.
I dig deeper grabbing handfuls of cold earth,
Tossing some of them at imaginary foes.
I see roots and their intricate patterns.
I smile
And I destroy them,
As perhaps is my way.
I stand and dust myself off,
Letting a giggle escape my lips.
I skip around for 18 seconds,
As I imagine a child would,
And I prepare to leave this forest.
I will leave soil on my forehead
And pretend that it is soot.

Take ye all of it, I say,
But now it is without sound
Just as the gods intended.