Hanna's Escape

When they asked me why my eyes stared warily away,
I told them I was afraid,
but when I could not answer of what, they sent me to the white room.

Soft voices asked me over and over,
pretty words twisted again and again,
but the syntax led to the same question.

The jargon spoken to each other translated to me that I was abnormal.

I asked them now, my monotone lyrics wondering,
why it was I wasn't the same as the other children.
When I raised my voice, they'd ready a needle,
and when I cried, they did the same.

Frozen by the cameras that watched me with mechanical eyes,
and the fakely curved lips of my questioners.

Reaching my arms outwardly so innocently as for a hug,
I snapped their necks instead.
My pale face was dotted with scarlet as I left,
their pistols and blood in my hands.