You stand in the middle of a crowd, aware of their existence but unable to feel them.
Are they real? Or is your mind in mayhem?
Then there’s a throbbing pain inside you.
What is this? You try to think what it is.
Your brain is telling you that everything’s alright
But you feel like you are being torn into pieces.
Anesthesia doesn’t work like that, you say.
Anesthesia make your body numb, where are you drifting away?
You dived in deeper. Where are you going?
And what’s that flowing?
Then you remember.
Remember him? Remember her? Remember them?
This, that, those. Do you remember?
No, I don’t.
You do. But it doesn’t matter.
Because what hurts is no longer them or this or that or those.
Sin Rostro Dolor, this faceless pain.