The Room

When I was a kid

I was locked alone in a room.

There was nothing in it except a single big, rugged rock.

Everyday someone with a disfigured face would come into the room and beat me.

They had no eyes, their eye sockets were just empty black holes in their face, they had no ears and hair, and their mouth was always open and frowning

I would try to fend for myself

Stumbling over my feet as I ran to the rock in panic, and grabbing it with both hands

But it never budged

It was too heavy

I wasn't strong enough

I would run around to different corners of the room trying to get away

But they would somehow always know where I was

I couldn't escape

No matter how much I screamed for help

Or tried to lift the rock

It was futile.

Every day when they came

I laid by the rock with my eyes closed Gripping it as hard as I could

Till my fingers tips bled

To deal with the pain of the beatings

Wondering

When I would be strong enough