POEM – ‘Statistic’

Dirt on the white stripes,
Blood on the blue.
The only colour to splash on my translucent skin,
Bar my name, numerical, scarred, permanent.

Climbing a human pyramid
Like a cancerous clown.
The snapping of bone
With each Sisyphus step.

The reward of the climb?
Scraping my nails to the quick on the ceiling.
I’d cry out but I’m muted madness
In the dark no one can see my lack of expression.

I hear a sudden scream from a stronger soul.
The brittle scaffold collapses.
There lifeless on the floor
I feel the gas come.
I feel the gas come.
I feel.

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