One small mistake; one mistake, with an impact

Of a life sentence! And here I reside

This dark, horrible cell that taunts me

With its lonely imperfect presence. Now does

The fire of youth and love condemn me,

A love I can’t forsake,

That I now should turn towards demons

Of this desolate and dark jail; it tells

A story of suffering and heartache to me.

It compels my isolated soul to read the

Account, under the dark shadows, of a boy

That knows no resting-place, that suffered through

Countless years all alone with his tortured heart,

And clothed in soot and mud, comforted only by one

‘Long his lonely road. I now read this account, carved with

Blood onto this cell wall:

‘By myself I sat

The trees shook, taunting trembling-trees, carriage crawling

Through desolate rugged winding roads: the horses shrieked,

A lightning like crack rung; the driver fell far

Silence stirred, then click, the horses fled frightened!

Mud and brush covered, the paths blended

Helpless to stop the carriage all alone,

Soon I started to cry, carried through winding roads

Until… At last the horses stopped.

Free from the carriage, I was then forced 

To wander about the countryside limp and drained

When at last I saw light.

But alas, I shivered, wishing for rest, giving in to death.

Faint green flickering lights, the smell of lavender greeting,

Questions filled my brain, ‘was I dead?’

No response was given, no answer for silent questions;

A metallic taste poured into my mouth

And an image of: leather birds?

Lavender smelling birds: large, staring down at me.

Silence soon broken by answers of life

‘Your heart has failed your body my dear child,

Its arteries, replaced, reconstructed, mechanically

Your life has been replenished.’ A solitary, creaking

Tick…tick…tick…tick filled the soft room,

A sound that haunted; a silent voice,

For mine had been taken in haste,

By the metal hands of doctors in an attempt for the life

I had lost-

The means of universal communication,

Reduced to a test subject to study,-

But, a miracle of life all same

Fibrous rings now of bronze metal and ribs

Carved out, a cavity in my chest:

The vocal cords removed to allow me to breath

Fabricated life, but a life to keep living,

The beauty of a second chance given.

Four years

Of new life had led, and, wonder! A new-

Family and home to care for me

Doctors to save; a beauty of life

Given, a women to carry my sorrow,

A women I called Nana and who called me Wade-

If only, time ceased, and I could remain in that moment,

God of Time! bring me back to that moment, 

If only, time ceased, and I could remain in that moment!

   A flame, a birthday surprise, fifteen candles placed,

Nana singing sweetly, soft and delicate,

A memory soon to be corrupted,

Whale oil of a lamp I carelessly spilt:

The fire blazed high, a blessing or a curse

Only I outlived, the

Screams of torched terror

The gleaming asylum I previously called home, reduced to

Ash and rubble. I wished for death to come,

To take me, free me, from this agony of a broken life

But ultimately the fire died; the solitary ticking clock

Tick…tick…tick..tick…tick, filling the silence

Of my lovely Nana, who wanted to share,

Her life’s work: my cursed ticking heart

Her only dream taken from her, into ash

No more could she love. I kept on

(The years grew tough as I carried

My Nana’s only gift to the damaged world)

Wandering all alone forever and ever. Five long years

Passed all around me. Walking through towns

Being chastised by panicked residents: the harsh words,

The pain, the constant condemning and bitter profanity,

A boy without pity, cast aside by society

For my ever ticking heart

I wished; for someone to see me,

To hold me, in struggling times

To see past surfaces.

No one dared though,

And I was left to my own solitary life,

I ventured on in a

Cursed life, neither family nor friends; roving aimlessly

I returned; to the ruins, to my devastated home, and

Charred stone. Charcoaled and cracked bones

Haunting my sunken eyes, remains of the people I

Killed and loved; their cold stares pained me

To clear ruined building and bones,

No life, no soul, just a continuous silent

Tick…tick…tick…tick–I had no soul

I feared the world and those it held

I feared flames; lights blazing bright

A fear held deep inside me, 

Nearly a boy of nineteen now, who feared fire;

A pathetic boy with no friends or family

Who stole to live, who existed at the expense of others;

During the late witching hours, I thieved

From local farms, I stole vegetables I stole,

And lived long–! I stole. Am I despicable now?

Someone who takes from hard working people

And families; questions that haunt me even now

A reminder of pain; of the ones I lost

In past, and future; the ones I kept hurting,

Ones I will, people I loved greatly.
I never asked for the carriage wreck or

For my heart to give out, run mechanically,

For Nana, and all the others near, to die

For a constant tick…tick…tick.

A miracle,

Or another grave mistake of mine, towards people I loved

The consequences of my horrible existence:

A silent night of wrongdoing and a reminding tick

The farms compelled me; my weakened withered stomach,

Oh dear, dear Fool; my ignorance and hunger blinded me

I lacked the proper perception needed, and as

I stumbled towards the fields slowly, crack!

I screamed silently. Alack! A hidden beaver trap

The world fell in as I gave into pain,

Oh dear, dear Fool! They were set to catch,

They were right to catch a pitiful thief

Though I freed myself anyways; I didn’t get far,

I could see to glow of their lanterns, crawling closer

Oh err to err: a silhouette came into vision

A boy my age tall, strong, heavenly glow

He reached me quickly, he saved me

He brought me, to a delicate clearing, 

Defended me, he brought me food and clothes,

No pity towards my broken heart, only concern

One could call our love a friendship,

But they would be wrong.

It was absolute affection. He sat beside me

I would write and he would read;

And the moments with him were full of

Wonder and newfound joy; but alas, nothing lasts forever,

Alden, my sweet, and ever loving Alden

Had a horrid father; who grew suspicious of his absence

As time passed between my injury and freedom,

His father followed, followed to our dwelling,

His arm brandishing a rifle; Alack! He,

He shot, not me, but Alden, his kin,

Who jumped in front, taking a bullet through

His never again beating, silent heart,

 And my poor love! Life-

Taken again before my eyes like a constant curse

My life, a crime in the eyes of wicked society

My existence erased–condemned to a horrible cell

Where the darkness consumes me and Nana and Alden

Consumes our memory; but I live, as a

Prisoner, a lowlife in chains, who writes

And scrapes my memories: into the 

Cell of pain–Oh! Will someone see me

And my love. I carve my sorry existence

Into the body here, for others with same crime to hear,

The stone, the memory, to remain here for all eternity

The hope that my story shall, and the others

Shall stay, to be remembered with a silent tick…tick..tick!’