At the center of it all: no madness,
only the slow wither of myth that held you
closed within yourself. You wake up
and there is the rest of the day
knowing the beast in you is gone. Left over
lunches in the fridge, cookies left cooling
on the counter while you sit down and try
to write each word you know: happiness,
safety, maze. This place that they put you in,
a maze too big to know there is a way out.
At the center of it all there you are,
living in content. A boy falls from the sky
and people marvel at this invention,
while you sit here watching, waiting to be slain
only that no one comes for you.
By Dominique C. SantosQLRS Vol. 11 No. 4 Oct 2012