The hardest thing about being ceremoniously murdered
is that no one tells you, and there is no funeral;
you just wake up dead one day,
fully expected to continue existing,
tidying up, going to work, talking
and listening to people,
as if their anecdotes, jokes, and complaints
mean anything to a dead woman.
Being ceremoniously murdered gets easier,
especially if the same (not sane) person
keeps killing you,
perhaps wondering why,
for the love of god,
Won’t you stay dead?
Death doesn’t suit me.
I will not stay dead for anyone,
least of all you. I’m climbing
out of this box you lock me in
until you want to play again,
like some ragdoll not allowed to be real.
Meanwhile, you try to breathe life
into these ridiculous girls who
can’t do it on their own, lavishing
you with their helplessness and need
until you feel like a hero,
suffocating the realest woman you’ve ever known
So dolls may play at being alive.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
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Outstanding
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Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
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Niche topic & fresh perspectives
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The story invoked strong personal emotions
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Comments (3)
Ouch. This actually hit close to the bone. For me with my own issues and how wife probably feels. Well done lass.
This smarts but is so spot on!
This piece is haunting and powerful — a raw exploration of emotional death and rebirth. The metaphor of being “ceremoniously murdered” captures how love or control can erase one’s sense of self, while the defiant ending reclaims identity and strength. It’s both heartbreaking and empowering.