Marks

Thin rectangle, why do you taunt me so?
Why do you flash your uniform color at me
as if you and I have some sort of pact between us?
Do you not hear? Do you not answer?

I see your mind - you will not yield to pressures.
Delicacy is the key to your secrets.
I shall bring forth the one, yes, the one
and then you will talk.

You will speak with the voices of others,
of girls and boys, of dragons and robots.
You will speak with the confidence of men
scribbling away as they mark you forever.

And I will speak through the one
And she will speak to you
And you'll say what we've all been thinking
Or at least what I have been thinking.

You will speak with a voice not your own,
and I will hear it all the clearer.
I will see what was previously hidden
in the marks I leave on your soul.

I will blacken you out,
hide the nakedness of your skin.
I will cover your shame with words
as the artist might with pictures.

I will cover you with words of comfort,
words of anger, of love, of indifference,
and you will tell the tales of our heroes.
You will relate to us deeds unattainable.

In your blank stare I tremble to think,
to dare to be another
and another
and another

Thin rectangle, I mark you thus.