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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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The executioner of dreams lowered his sword
erasing the smile forgotten in the shadows always static framing the same image in the window Little Silver Doll frozen in a different time they’ve sewn her eyes so she wouldn’t cry so she wouldn’t hear the sound of rocks smashing the mirrors so she wouldn’t feel the taste of dreams wrapped in paper so she wouldn’t see the clock that strikes midnight when her wrists release their pain and the blood flows freely anxiously awaiting the burial in the aching snow white bodies positioned symmetrically in a circle surrounded by water Kids dance around her they poke her with needles to see if she’s moving if she’s bleeding if she’s screaming and the Moon does not come out anymore only corpses convulsing in the dark remain losing their smiles and innocence Little Silver Doll can’t cry she does not have any feelings she is not scared by nightmares she does not wake up in the morning her hands chase imaginary fairies the stone remains cold she did not bleed, she did not scream. In dreams flowers were burning..
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