A Boy’s Introduction Into Society [sestina]

I saw her: a treasure underneath a deathbed of flowers, a stone-struck girl with eyelids burst-gasping open

Choking as she struggled to stifle the explosions of hurricanes in her lungs, still half-alive; no one could blame her but-

Still “It’s half past time to die”, in sweet-opera-chorus-song sang they;

Still cried she, “No, no, there’s still one more thing I have to do…”

--though she was hollow and corpse-pale already--

(They dragged her to her grave kicking and screaming, a shallow bone-thin ghost desperate to live--)

Now watch as the Doctor crouches over his list of things to-do, ignoring the line of people that still want to live

--8 miles now and counting outside his door. He’s procrastinated for far too long; his trap door is blatantly open.

By now they are spilling past the block like helpless ants, and I already

know he will not come out tonight. As a patient sentry outside his window, futile and polite, I can’t help but

wonder if anyone realizes that he is nothing but a wingless loser hiding in a nest dropped on the ground, (due

to his loveless mother no doubt),  and no more a savior than the least of them. Funnily enough no one noticed me slip out the back door, more alive than all of them—

Oh, but you didn’t see them crying out as they clawed at the windows, a scratch for everyone dead one of them--

What a beautiful sight! They fell down perfectly in a neat pile against his window. I didn’t have to, though. Really? I find it’s easier to live

with my nails politely biting into the palms of my hands, to find the screams enjoyable; don’t

you think it’s easier than keeping your heart open,

constantly clutching the dead bleeding seams? Moist wet threads. Disgusting, swollen and broken, but

tolerable with a proper dose of morphine and a bullet to the chest—Oh my! Is it that time already?

My dear, I’m terribly late, this conversation has already

dragged past noontime and now it is but a drifting cloud that they

will glimpse at while they lie there [squinting between sweat-swollen lids with faint recognition]. But

that’s alright. You and I, and all the rest of Us—surely we will live

just as well without Them. Excuse me! Please open

the door. No, I would not like my RSVP to be delivered, thank you. Silly, you do

realize that would take all the fun out of it? Not to worry, you will learn in time. The best part is always done

secretly, a sweet, juicy conspiracy between we who sip tea quietly in the Doctor’s parlor, already

done with the appetizers (stolen from their pockets, naturally)…You do realize you’ve lived your life eyes half-open?

Feeling queasy, darling? It’s quite understandable, certainly, poppet, he did say that you were a bit--but—well they

weren’t lying I suppose--but let’s not fuss over that—you’ve still got plenty of time left to live

after all--Oh you’re sure you’re not ready for some scones? Quite sure? Full already?

I can see why, look! You’ve eaten more than your share already, isn’t that funny?  But

 why the long face? Don’t worry about it, we all have. That’s why we’re still here. (But

 soon you’ll grow to enjoy it, and pretty soon you won’t think about it at all.) In the meantime do

at least accept this, then, it’s the least I can do, a growing boy does need something to live

on after all! Skinny little thing. I can’t lie, it’s really quite alarming how they’ve

never told any of this to you before. Oh—but look! It’s already

past your bed time, do excuse me. You can hardly keep your eyes open.

I know this all must sound a bit--but my, that’s an oddly-shaped flowerbed! We’ve already

passed it? Eight times? Really? Funny how it slipped my eyes. Do look, the crowd has mobbed that poor Doctor’s house--they

certainly did a thorough job of burning to the ground. Pity about the scones, they were always my favorite…No, they didn’t leave anyone alive.

Fortunate we left while we did! No, this isn’t a nightmare, honey, it isn’t even a daymare—actually, you’d see it was real if you would just open--

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Damn, this is old. Found it while skimming through my files. 
A sestina written for my Creative Writing class in senior year. 
(Yes, it is as hard as it looks. xD)