by Profe Steve
She doesn’t need a superhero, Just someone who can see.
Surrounded by the pretty lights And the tinsel And the happy, lilting songs.
She smiles and nods to the strangers around her. Even the ones who are with her every day.
They don’t see.
They can’t hear the labored thump of her heart
And how her soul creaks like a bare branch in the icy wind.
* * *
He looks like everyone else, Dressed like a page out of a magazine.
He goes through the motions, Smiling and laughing at the jokes,
And lifts his glass to make a toast.
The others roar and slap his back with glee.
To his own ears, his voice rings like a cracked bell.
* * *
She feels a beat out of step.
Like she is dancing to the wrong tune.
He doesn’t need someone to save him.
She doesn’t need to be rescued.
They only need for someone to see That all is not right,
That they harbor deep inside such hidden things,
Dark things. Things that skitter and chatter just beyond hearing, Voices that whisper wordless accusations,
And ice that grips their souls.
Oh how they long to scream it out loud,
Or even to whisper to someone, “It hurts.”
But each looks around at the care-free faces, The beautiful smiles, The ones who are whole.
And they die a little more
Even as they sing the joyous songs.