The Stories Of The Inanimate

I’m always covered in blood.

Surrounded by pain.

My whole being is a mask.

Abuse they call it, pain. But what else can I do? What could I possibly do?

There’s nothing I can do, nothing to rectify the situation. It hurts. Too much.

I look funny they say. And they laugh. They laugh so much.

The noise is overwhelming, following, haunting, every single step.

With every single step. Laughter and pain. Laughter and pain.

Always. Until I’m gone. There is no other life for me, no other life.

Its going to hurt my whole existence.

I’m just here to help. I help as much as I can.

It's not my fault. I'm only here to help.

I’m a plaster, a band-aid. It’s just what I do.