My Heavy Hand [The Third Door]
My heavy hand beats her,
Hitting the girl’s face with even greater force,
Than I knew was possible,
She makes no attempt at resistance,
As always she accepts each blow,
Smashing against her delicate face.
Her precious blood spills,
Tainting my skin with crimson,
She does not react,
Eventually, she gives up on consciousness,
Both her face and cold stone painted with blood.
She falls to the floor.
Her lifeless eyes staring at my feet.
I know what I should do,
This time my unspoken feelings,
Will be free to scream,
To realise their true hatred,
Of this pointless game,
These barren walls,
Hold me as much as her.
This heavy hand,
Hurts me with every blow,
I did this.
That thought crushes my soul,
Ripping through my mechanised heart.
I could have stopped my hand,
I could change her life,
If only I could bring down these walls around me,
Holding me captive in my own prison,
But that can never work.
I tried before,
It broke her,
It broke me.
I will always be a sorry slave,
To my heavy hand.