She saw castles where
We saw skyscrapers
And prisons. Buildings
to kill our individuality
and creativity.
Instead hers grew
Like a weed in a garden.
Like a flower in the sidewalk.
Something you can
Stomp out and pull at
But she will continue
To grow. She looked at city
Lights like stars and
Made wishes as they
Flickered on and off
In the distance.
I thought maybe one
Day she would give up
On wishes too simple
To pull an answer from.
"Being happy isn't a goal,"
I would say,
"It's a value of x
That we have to find
The equation for."
"Being happy is THE goal,"
She would say,
"It's the reason
That we continue to
Hope for the future.
No matter how bad the present is."
And I guess I couldn't
Argue with her logic
Because I remained quiet.
It's not a subject
You can study I guess
I was wrong.
It's not x or y
It is the trial and error
As you look for
The right answer
To get the outcome that
You want most.
It is a breath
It is a pause
Between thoughts
As you finally get it right.
It is a haleilujah sung
Too late but
At least it was sung
At all.
It is not having to
Remind your heart
To beat but
Realizing that it
Does it on it's own
And will continue on
Even if you scream
For it to stop.
It is small moments
And forgetting yourself
Long enough to make wishes on
City lights flickering
In the distance.
"Being happy," she says,
"is like drowning.
The waves can push
You under but
Once you break the surface
You don't even
Think about how
Easy it is to breathe."
YOU ARE READING
Delinquents
PoetryWhat's our story? We are just a group of Delinquents that no one expects to do well. In reality, the only 'trouble' we get into will probably get us laughed at and encouraged than into any actual trouble.
