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by Kevin Mercurio

Tick tock, tick tock.
I continue to stare at the clock.
Tick tock, tick tock.
The teacher keeps scratching the board with chalk.
Just more meaningless letters and numbers.
I slumber.
I’m just always in confusing wonder.
Outside, it flashes lightning and thunder.
I shudder.


Is there anyone here that I can trust?


Wishing that there won’t be a fuss,
hiding from the bullies at the back of the bus.
I finally get home really late,
hoping that no one tries to exacerbate
the events of today.
“Honey, eat dinner,” Mom would say.
“I want to play,” I would relay.
But that was a lie.
I just wanted to survive one more day and cry.
It’s not until I get ready for bed,
that I see the hero in the bright red cape
waiting by my door.
And before I begin to tear once more,
he reaches out his hand to mine.
Suddenly without so much as a sign
I lose all negative emotions,
fabricated suppositions,
adolescent superstitions.
Sonderman is here to stay,
to carry all the bad away,
so that children would proudly say,
“I survived yet another day”. 



Cook, clean, wait, sex.
I continue to lie with context.
Cook, clean, wait, sex.
We keep fighting without knowing what’s next.
Just more expensive bills and dreary chores.
I adorn.
I long for days that are empty of scorn,
the early times after our son was born.
I mourn.


Does he attempt to appreciate me?


Because all I wish to see,
is quite honestly just some common courtesy.
I dust the house, I clean the laundry,
I tend the garden, I watch the TV.
I sit steady and wait,
trying hard to anticipate
the new disturbance to our state.
Will we shout and fight?
Or skip the seemingly inevitable plight?
It’s not until I see the long day end,
that I see the hero in the bright red cape
step into the room.
And before I bear and linger in gloom,
he reaches out his hand to mine.
Suddenly without so much as a sign
I lose all negative emotions,
unrealistic intuitions,
detrimental divisions.
Sonderman is here to steal
all the despair I have concealed,
so that spouses don’t have to deal
with a partner who does not feel.


Eat, poop, wait, sleep.
I continue life but barely speak.
Eat, poop, wait, sleep.
I try and move but feel extremely weak.
Just more daily routines and chronic pain.
I refrain.
To find my family on the next plane,
to shout loud and take the Lord’s name in vain.
I disdain.


Did I try and do as much as I could?

To force myself outside which would
allow me to experience the things that are good.
I try and make an effort to stand,
but it’s even hard to reach out my hand.
I notice I’m afraid,
of the twisting path that was laid.
Yet I just silently remained
burdened with strife,
while waiting for the scythe.
It’s not until I glance at the photo,
that I see the heroes in bright red capes
near me on my right.
And before I pass on into the night,
they reach out their hands to mine.
Suddenly without so much as a sign,
I lose all negative emotions,
thoughts of missing occurrences,
thoughts of painful body functions.
Sonderman is far and near,
waiting for moments to appear,
so people have nothing to fear,
and realize that we’re always here.


“I’m not a prophet or a stone aged man, just a mortal with potential of a superman.”
David Bowie

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