The Painting

My world was painted for me long ago.  The brushstrokes titled “Your Significance”.  The colors hypnotize me, blind me, mesmerize me.

 I believe.           

I perform.

 I become. 

All crowd around me and carve their cravings unto my skin.   I am lost in my own mind, lost in all I see.  The prophet speaks, his booming words directed at them, directed to me, drawing me onward and downward.  I am baptized in fire and rise a vessel ready to be filled with their desires.  Was I wrong to play along, paralyzed by what my eyes saw?  The laughter, the joking, why am I here? The only things I own are taken from me: my body, soul, and mind.

The air is coated with heavy desire and I shrink under the weight.  I feel no fear.  No, not any more.  The fear now lives in my DNA, taking residence in my muscles, my bones, my blood.  I lost myself and my senses long ago.  My purpose is etched in my mind as I look in their eyes.  Their painting is forever reflected in mine.

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