Pisaries Creator

In the deep hole of a circle, there was a head.

Not one of us claimed it as our own.

Its open mouth with one front tooth didn’t belong to any of us.

We waded through empty candy wrappers on the floor.

They were once decorations hanging.

We were confused. The message was clear.

Our doing wasn’t innocent anymore.

Deep within the speakers, there was message for me.

I was not a child but a ghost.

The rest were corpses and skeletons.