Sword In The Box


A man, a magician
Tall, slouched, mysterious
Looking in a crowd
unsuspecting volunteers... victims.

Peering, darting minicingly through
Every row. He pointed at me
As if every velvet covered seat, empty
I was alone.

Walking up on stage,
Fluorescent lights burn my skin, it stings
Steps are steep, struggling to climb.

I see a cliche of a magician:
Black top hat, black jacket,
white undershirt, seven gold buttons,
Fiery sash, and a standard wand.

As i walked up, he asked my name.
I stared unknowing what was in store.
He turned and swished his cape, audience roared,
He was to put me into a box, impaling swords.

Summoning the prison, lowered to the stage floor
four long thick vine cables
set on atop a black platform
five steps. "Please step in. It's alright." evil grin.
I go willingly.

inside i hear nothing, see only darkness
I hear a thud, silence again, Feeling pinches
Stabbed in the back, a searing blade
I taste blood.

Next, i feel the same pain, my left leg
The agony vanquished me,
wishing i were anywhere else
It was a dream, never real.

Hearing thud after thud, piercing steel
shaving my skin, cutting my bones
Hell.

The audience, did they hear screams?
why would they let it happen?
Hearing whispers, paranoia returns

"They cannot hear you. No one sees your pain.
The ripping of your soul is silent as death."

Whispers cease, replaced with a faint rattling
Bright horizontal line, I come out clean.
No pain, no blood, only glorious applause.

No one sees, behind the scenes.
It is a magic act.

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This Poems Story

This poem is a favorite of mine. I will probably never enter it because it has already been published in Shorter University's "The Chimes" where it was awarded third prize in the prose category. I never intended it to be prose, but it was still an honor. This Poem tells a story about: depression, abuse, or whatever may hurt someone, and how it may not be noticed or covered up.