Small Ears

He sat in silence,
marveling at his newfound face,
the tiny black thread,
ran along the lines of his cheek,
outlining what was once a smile,
his eyes fell heavy upon the wall,
every stitch played out upon the facade,
a sharp guttural choke struggled to break free,
at every moment of silence,
and blood trickled from his small ears,
as his hands fought in desparation,
to drown out the scenes filled with blaring noise,
the strip of film fell from his forehead,
as red stained hands grasped childish memories,
he struggled against a sea of pain,
pleading for his fingers to unfurl,
to relinquish their grip on the tiny pictures,
of the movie still playing in his head,
and then he was broken,
in the most graceful fall,
he landed upon his back,
with his eyes open to the ceiling,
glowing with an unhuman light,
and played out over and over again,
on the stark white wood,
was a scene of a young girl,
her mouth eternally feeling out her vocal attack,
silent words falling on a broken boy,
his limbs strewn about the floor,
and his mouth sown shut.