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Weekly Contest #252
Hold my hand. I beg and plead for a fingertip, a skeletal embrace that touches mine, that is all I need. Please rid me of these icy claws that choke my neck, paralysing me, the ones holding me against my will. They tattoo my skin, black tar fills my throat, I choke, and no one aids me. Laying, my body is a doll, the fragile porcelain fractured, my legs clicked into shape, blackness seeps and caresses the floor. I am alone and left a shattered mirror. But it calls for me, that little glass, it plays with me. Gleaming and flickering, somewhat ...
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