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Is Anyone There?

Haunted by a tone-deaf culture

By Amy CarlsenPublished 3 years ago 2 min read
Is Anyone There?
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Something isn't quite right

Swarming busy bodies with smiling faces

But I smell the fumes of death

Seeping out into the air with every breath

In a place supposed to be a refuge

I'm in my worst nightmare

In a place proclaiming belonging

I feel so alone

It is eerie and no one can sense it but me

Nothing but shadows running the play

Ignoring the cries for help standing in their way

Getting lost in the sea of people, I blend into the tour

Led by a captivating guide and all her allure

She proudly directs our attention through the window

"Look at the smiling children

They're so happy - they want to relive these moments forever

So they stay here"

Squinting out the window in disbelief

I see tiny apparitions on the playground

A gray, translucent little girl pumping her legs on the swing

The same, repetitive tune she sings

A barely-visible, lanky boy on the monkey bars

His outstretch arms accentuating his scars

Are my eyes deceiving me?

This cannot be

I look around and no one is phased

Am I the only one not in a daze?

I run away, fast

Away from this delusion of hell

Down the hall, around the corner, and through the door

Trying to escape through the stairwell

Suddenly I am stopped by a teenage boy

Whispering in desperation

Hiding underneath the stairs

Greasy, black hair obstructing his deep eyes

Help, his face pleads

As he speaks and tells his story, his hair and nails grow long before my eyes

Even his toenails grow like a time-lapse video

And puncture his worn-out, stretched-out socks

Sobbing, his voice becomes higher-pitched

Small breasts begin to develop

The dirt and grime fades away

She is glowing

But then she glitches back and forth to her old reality

Stuck in between two worlds

Heart racing and panting, I close my eyes

I see all of her memories, all of her pain

My heart sinks through my gut as she reveals what happened

She never came to be

She would not have been accepted

Welcomed only by the gun

I open my eyes, though I cannot see clearly through the tears

Still, I know she is gone

She just wanted someone to listen

sad poetry

About the Creator

Amy Carlsen

Seattle-based writer born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Left the field of engineering sales to pursue vocation in full-time ministry. Married to her college sweetheart, Tory, and loves being a mom to her Kindergartener, Cole.

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