The Silence
Silence. The sound of water. Dripping- like Chinese torture She waits to hear something. Anything Nothing. To subside the pain that forces her down until her knees bleed. The clicking yells, cries, the smell of piss Become a blanket of normal. The silence. A toilet cold as ice glued to a sink only one foot away a bed a slab of concrete. A thin mat one blanket. No pillow. A piece of splintered wood. No windows constant light. The sound cars driving through puddles keys and voices it's time to go. She's nervous, innocent, scared but won't say. She is too strong. Too proud but it's not her fault. Shackled.Like her ancestors. Memories.Pain.Anger Surface.A single tear drops 302 months doesn't sound that bad until you convert it to years and it's over. That quick chatter of the Superbowl. the court reporter drops her head with tired eyes wasn't the first life they took that day. At that moment the judge was the devil, the smell of death. The respected honorable l