REFLECTIONS AND MIRRORS

that’s what they tell you as you’re shining in the halls, still wet from the burning shower that rip the caked grime from your skin, leaving the body underneath are raw as new skin, as raw as a new start.

 

“This Is Your Salvation.”

 

they’ll repeat this to you as you work hard to earn your keep. as you train hard to be a warrior for something. as you learn your life has meaning. as you learn that nothing before this mattered. as you learn to hate everything you are, right down to your inevitable genetic code.

 

“This Is Your Salvation.”

 

you tell yourself s you learn to kill someone. as you learn to eradicate what used to be you. as you kill. another. and another. and another until you can’t tell the difference between all the names, faces, and screams. until it becomes one huge nightmare that haunts the few sleeping hours you have left.

 

“This Is Your Salvation.”

 

whispered. as you swallow the pills to make everything. stop. as you try to make it to the next day, the next hour, the next minute. the next. second. because you haven’t finish your work. you have not righted yourself of generations of wrong.

 

this is your salvation—

 

because there is nothing left for you after this.