Sparkatale

The windows to the soul
Are closed up and boarded.
The body is shivering with cold
But burning inside its shell
Destroying itself inside out
And nobody dares to stop it.

Nobody knows the
Destruction
Within.

The green spheres move
Robotically
At the slightest sound that
Beats upon the hearing drum
Enhanced by an alertness
That sets the normal soul
On edge.
And they blink once.

The destruction
Is missed.

There is internal screeching
Demonic wails
Penetrate weak defenses
Causes trembling
In foreign spaces
On this bitter globe.

And for a moment,
The body wonders
If it really has a purpose
To sit in its
Disconnected existence
And let the destruction rage on
Unchecked,
Eternal.

It believes that there is trouble
In revealing the turmoil.

Neglects to understand
The violence
In silence.