Betrayal

Betrayal

I'm dead and then yet I'm still breathing.
Surely this pain can be only that of death.

My heart lies in pieces scattered within my body,
mere shrapnel of what it once was.

Knives cover the contours of my back
signifying the events of the past,
and then yet more appear each day.

The pain their blades inflict on me
pushes me ever so closer to the point of insanity
and still I grasp with fingertips to the last molecules of hope.

I get pushed and shoved
but still manage to spread that fake smile across my face
and act as if nothing were wrong.

For you see I walk with my back to the knife-thrower
and still feel surprised when his knives pierce my flesh and tear me apart,
but how do you tell the knife-thrower to stop
when it is you throwing the knives
and its others that select the target.