Anonymous smiles of dreamer eyes

Her eyes are distant, immersed in gray ashes
A dark read coal burns in the meanders of her smile
While writhing worms dig deep in her pleasured mind.
She can’t sit still for very long, school is almost over…
Her small immaculate nails wish to bite innocent flesh
All her mind can see is the warm blood of her baby brother
As it trickles, almost dancing, along her neck, down her shirt.

She shakes with forbidden pleasure,
Her small, pale body shakes so violently, she smiles.
She looks calmly at the teacher, with blank eyes.
She looks at her pretty, young skin as she moves her arms.
She wonders how the teacher would look without her flesh.
Would she scream, would she even breathe differently?

She puzzles over this dilemma, squirming in her seat.
She then lines up all her sharp pencils, 25 of them.
They’re all so peaceful, perfectly aligned on her desk.
She looks towards each of the students in the class.
If she were to bite their arms and feet off
She could sew the pencils in their place.
She wonders if it would be the same as having limbs.

She smiles absentmindedly, she looks so at ease.
In her head everything seems circled by a beautiful white light
All objects and thoughts are there for her to use them
There is no limit to what her mind should produce.
She slowly hums to herself, a tune from a movie.

But then her eye slowly twitches as she remembers
The revolting face of her pig mother,
As she screams at her because she didn’t want to see
The smiling faces of the dead portrayed the girl’s pictures.
She scratches her arm uncontrollably, irrationally
Such is the fury that image brought back in her small soul.

But she calms herself and hides her reddened burning arm.
She almost has the temptation to dig deeper with her sharp pencils
But it’s not the same as scratching into someone else’s flesh
Because the pleasure of seeing blood ooze from a terrified corpse
Is the sort of pleasure that, unfortunately, no amount of money can buy.