Sleep

Entering your bedroom,
Walking to your window and looking out,
Onto the streets
Where the young girl rides her bike,
The old man huddled into his jacket,
The teenage boy wearing a hoody outside the corner shop,
The middle aged couple in the opposite garden,
All is peaceful, is that what you see?
Peace?

Wake up.
Open your eyes.
Are you blind?
Can you not see?

Rub your eyes with your hands,
Shake your head from side to side,
Do anything that will open your eyes,
Wake you up
To see the truth.

Start again.

Looking out of the window,
A cold breeze hitting your face,
Shards of glass penetrating your skin,
Forcing a thick, red liquid to ooze down your cheeks and neck,
Dripping onto the floor,
Where a tiny splash is heard.

Ignore the pain,
Look on the street,
With the road broken,
Glass littering the ground,
Broken toys, cars, bikes,
Thrown across the ground,
Like it was a rubbish dump,
No flowers, no trees,
So bare,
So dead.

A young girl speeds,
Down the street,
Crying,
Afraid.
Her father running behind her,
Holding a belt,
Whipping it at her back.
The girl falls,
The bike slips,
She lands on the street,
Head first.
Her father rushes up to her and hits her,
One,
Two,
Three,
She didn't move.
Didn't even flinch.
Her father just walked away.
You tear your eyes from the sight.

More blood dripping to the floor,
You notice the old man,
Forcing his jacket around himself,
Exiting a house,
Windows broken,
Door forced in,
It wasn't his house.
Running now,
To a car,
The man climbs in,
Starts the engine,
Races off,
Over the girl on the streets,
Not a care in the world,
Not even looking back.

Crying by now,
You notice a boy,
From your school,
By the corner shop.
Drawing his hood over his face,
Entering the store,
Holding a gun,
Demanding money.
Grabbing what he could,
All the money he could carry,
He calmly walked out of the store,
Across the street,
Walking over the girl,
Tossing his fake gun into the road,
Among the other things.

Disgusted,
You look over the road,
At the couple.
An argument occured earlier,
Forcing the woman to yell and scream,
The man,
Drunk as usual,
Grasping a knife in his hand.
The woman ran.
He threw the knife.
The blade pierced the skin,
Like a knife in soft butter,
She hit the ground.
He's looking over her,
Drawing out the knife.
He looks up.
At your window.
You freeze.
He raises his arm.
You run.
He lets go.
A whistle emits around your room,
Followed by a scream around your house.

You collapse on the bed,
Breathing heavily,
Clawing at your face,
Tears mixing with blood.
You close your eyes.
You see the deceased,
You reach for their hand,
You count softly,
One,
Two,
Three.

A voice inside your head,
Whispers in all your thoughts.
One word.
One commandment.
One deed.

Sleep...