Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites

Darkness.


Voices.

Hatred.


Light.

Cries.

Sinful.



The rubber of a rabbit mask collects the stench of sweat,
thinly wound hands rub away a wet red in a sink,
though the fur of the bunny suit tastes like danger it's good,
a dawn beneath the mess of red hair that drapes across sickness.

"I told her not to freak out." It's all she asked of her sister.

The sibling slumps down in a cold enough bed made of sweaty paste,
she cries into the pillow that her head was just buried within,
feeling the imprint of her body which was dug,
the throb of pressure on a certain fresh wound between her legs.

The masked sister wanted nothing more
than for the sibling to understand
what she had gone through,
for her to listen and see that she
hurts inside.

Some are born into evil,
others have evil thrust upon them.