Caretaker

I tried to flee but could not run

So, I stretched my hands toward the sun.

All I wanted was to be done.

Fear himself took my head in his hands and spun.

The bullet launched itself from the gun,

I flinched against the pain, but there was none.

.

The god placed his hands upon my head

And pick up his needle, laced with thread.

It matched my mind in gleaming red.

He sewed me up as I slowly bled.

His soothing voice gently said,

“My dear, you will not sleep until you are dead.”

.

He picked me up and took me inside

To a place where I felt I did not need to hide.

Where the people were false but never lied

And kept an auspicious spring in their stride.

He watched from the corner, beastly bright-eyed.

My chaotic caretaker; my hypnotic guide.