Condemned and Demolished
Turning off the lamp’s light, climbing out of my window, prepared for never coming back. I start walking on the street. Not caring or wondering about anything. I wouldn’t be thinking about where to go. I’d just keep walking. Avoiding everyone’s house, the ones who mean the most to me, because I don’t want them to see me. And I don’t want to think about what she, particularly, is doing because I know I’m partly scarring her. She knows I’m scarring her. She has to face me every day. And when I tell her what’s wrong, she gets scarred by the things I say. When I told her I used to pierce, her arms started secretly burning and she doesn’t even know it because she is so numb to this. And it’s just scarring her without the physical pain. So I keep walking, finding a park and sit on a bench for hours, gazing at the snow.
All I want is to see the dead grass, when it’s the beginning of spring. I want the grass to heal and to become what it once was, green and full of life. Not dull and smashed by an undying seasonal change. I notice something, that there’s no one left in the park but me. Even though this scene was empty before I got here. I feel stranded and alone. So I get off the bench and keep walking into forever. The path that curves out of the park and onto the broken down sidewalk seems to be a never ending story. This path will be forever broken, no matter how hard we try to fix it up. Its origins and roots are eternally broken. And I’m the one, who will never forget how many times we tried to change something that will never be fixed. I take my eyes off of this rundown path, having hope for the forgotten. Maybe, my mother hasn’t noticed I’m gone. Maybe she has forgotten all about me.
I step into the abandoned street, it broken too. I walk in the middle of the messy road, because no car will ever drive into nothing, I’m just walking into a dead end. The roads are icy and splattered with snow, here and there. I start to build a conviction; the only season without snow is summer. And we are in the dead of winter. Freezing and thawing as the year stretches onward into something like the last. At the dead end, I see the sun setting. The sun could never be more beautiful than now, in this moment, this very second. I feel like I’m at the horizon. But really, the horizon was never there. It was made up to make me believe, there was something more out there. But, maybe the horizon, is the time in your life, when everything is wrong except one thing, the suns beautiful scene, because the sun never hurt you. I look away, turn around, and head downtown.
By this time, it’s night. The street lights are beaming with bright lighting. Cars and fancy limousines flood into the streets. Music from stores distracts my mind. I feel the city scene is overwhelming, but cool. I look at the stop lights, green…. yellow…. red. Stop go, stop go. I can’t stand this. I run fast in front of cars and into the neighborhoods. Back to the park. I sit back on the bench again, hands buried in my face. I start to weep. I know I’m broken, and torn. Scared and shattered. My eyes are so cluttered. I want to be out of my misery. I hate being broken from the insides out. I stare into the dark area. It’s cluttered by darkness, just like me. I shut my eye lids, letting tears stream down my face. I think,” I never asked for this.” I’ve been in, out, and through this situation for quiet the time. This is not the never ending story. This is not fate. But, I’d hate for death to do us part. What should I do? How am I even able to hold myself back? I feel crazy. I think I’ve gone mad. I want out so bad.
All I want is to see the dead grass, when it’s the beginning of spring. I want the grass to heal and to become what it once was, green and full of life. Not dull and smashed by an undying seasonal change. I notice something, that there’s no one left in the park but me. Even though this scene was empty before I got here. I feel stranded and alone. So I get off the bench and keep walking into forever. The path that curves out of the park and onto the broken down sidewalk seems to be a never ending story. This path will be forever broken, no matter how hard we try to fix it up. Its origins and roots are eternally broken. And I’m the one, who will never forget how many times we tried to change something that will never be fixed. I take my eyes off of this rundown path, having hope for the forgotten. Maybe, my mother hasn’t noticed I’m gone. Maybe she has forgotten all about me.
I step into the abandoned street, it broken too. I walk in the middle of the messy road, because no car will ever drive into nothing, I’m just walking into a dead end. The roads are icy and splattered with snow, here and there. I start to build a conviction; the only season without snow is summer. And we are in the dead of winter. Freezing and thawing as the year stretches onward into something like the last. At the dead end, I see the sun setting. The sun could never be more beautiful than now, in this moment, this very second. I feel like I’m at the horizon. But really, the horizon was never there. It was made up to make me believe, there was something more out there. But, maybe the horizon, is the time in your life, when everything is wrong except one thing, the suns beautiful scene, because the sun never hurt you. I look away, turn around, and head downtown.
By this time, it’s night. The street lights are beaming with bright lighting. Cars and fancy limousines flood into the streets. Music from stores distracts my mind. I feel the city scene is overwhelming, but cool. I look at the stop lights, green…. yellow…. red. Stop go, stop go. I can’t stand this. I run fast in front of cars and into the neighborhoods. Back to the park. I sit back on the bench again, hands buried in my face. I start to weep. I know I’m broken, and torn. Scared and shattered. My eyes are so cluttered. I want to be out of my misery. I hate being broken from the insides out. I stare into the dark area. It’s cluttered by darkness, just like me. I shut my eye lids, letting tears stream down my face. I think,” I never asked for this.” I’ve been in, out, and through this situation for quiet the time. This is not the never ending story. This is not fate. But, I’d hate for death to do us part. What should I do? How am I even able to hold myself back? I feel crazy. I think I’ve gone mad. I want out so bad.