I sit

knees drawn up to my chest,

head bowed to touch folded hands

sitting on their thrones,

Back pressed against the wall; desperate for reassurance,

body still.

Silent.

made of stone;

made of ice,

feet placed haphazardly in front of the lowered head; pushing hard against the cold unfeeling floorboards, flaked with paint,

footsteps pass me by,

the sound of rubber soles echoing in my mind,

bouncing off the roof of my skull; amplified

to ten times the original volume.

wind sweeps leaves; dry, crackling, harsh

Scratching my tormented mind, across my hunched body.

sun shines down upon me,

a vain effort to comfort me,

while this shield hides

a

breaking

wall,

falling apart,

cracking;

under unseen pressure,

while this mask covers

the

silent

tears

that are

gracefully

turning,

twisting,

dancing,

twirling,

raising coloured banners,

dropping,

to my icy, shaking hands,

coursing through the stone lap of a riverbed,

and

soaking

into the

crumbly soil;

as if

they

never

were.

--By Yue Lin. 'Untitled (once more)."

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