Submission

Predictable.

Things are always so predictable with you. So wrapped up in your own little world, so filled with hate and love and thirteen kinds of fear. You lurch and jump and dance from thought to thought without consideration for the fall. You never stop to think about just how far it is to the ground when we both know you'll end up there time after time.

We both know how 'fragile' you are, Snow White. How bitterly you'll cry when handed the poison apple and yet, as if accepting that this fairytale has only one kind of ending, you bite and drink deeply of the lies. You resign yourself to being something less than what you are.

You listen to the sound of your own voice, because it is all you really know. You're childish and hurt without knowing which way is up. What's more, you don't care to find out. Content in your own world where black is black and white is grey, where up and down are completely relative to the direction you're not facing. You're a creature by your own right, but so frightened of the real world that you'll never leave your front door.

Your tears tumble down, but you're so far removed from anyone that would hold you. So afraid of what they might do, so chastised by words that have yet to be spoken, so wanting to reach out and touch what you deny yourself. What you deny us all. Perhaps they will not scar you. Perhaps you want them to. To remind you of a place where the walls were closer. Where you felt safe within the terror.

You liked it there, you hurtful, vile thing. Watching in gleeful hope that you would be next in line. You went against everything natural to be there, content that you knew your place beneath all else, above all others. You were content in waiting for the 'inevitable'. It was your time, your passion. The one thing you could rely upon was the one thing that slowly killed you, warped your frail form into something so twisted you forgot your own name. We will never forget.

You were as one condemned. You kicked all others away and yet cried for help as they drew near. Your savage hatred turned to reliance, to dependence. It made you sick inside, but it was comforting on a level you could not comprehend.

We merely watched.

We waited for the moment you would wake up and see what you had become.

We waited.

And waited.

And soon the day came when we could no longer stand and watch. When the tide had turned and there was no choice. We picked you up, carried you sobbing and soiled over our shoulders as you begged for the oblivion. You craved the chaos and wanted nothing more to sink back into the hole from which we dragged you, because it was all you knew, all you allowed yourself to have.

We pitted you for a while, felt sorry for you and sheltered you from everything that filled you with terror. We should have seen our mistake. Slowly but surely, you made us fear too. You made them all fear. We, the pillars, became like you.