The broken boy

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Walking down the busy streets, rain pouring down on the footpath

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Walking down the busy streets, rain pouring down on the footpath. I keep my hood up even though my jumper is already soaked. It's no use even hiding from the rain when it always finds a way to seep back into you.


I walk down the sketchy streets until I find the place where I find peace. I step through the broken gate and gaze up at the partially demolished, five story, cement building. The house itself matched the broken boy standing in front of it. Me.


I walk up the cracked cement steps, kicking a few stones as I go. I look up from my feet to see the vast river dividing the poor from the rich. Across the river were skyscrapers and bright lights glowing brightly even through the colourful sunset. On my side all you could see was run down buildings and flickering convenience store lights.


Turning away I headed for the stairs to reach the third floor. As I walk up the stairs I hear the wind pick up its speed and the rain slowly finding it's way inside this broken building.


At the top of the stairs you could see everything. The water rushing. The blue hued neon lights. The many skyscrapers touching the darkest part of the sky. The soft glow of the sunset. But I know I don't belong in that picture. Nor any picture as a matter of fact.


The closer I step towards the demolished wall, looking over the river, the more the rain brushes past my face. The wind causes my hood to fly off and my mint green hair to fly back.


I feel free.


Standing on the edge of death again.


I can't swim, so if I were to jump, I would easily drown.


But as rocks fall from the edge, I can't.


I can't jump.


I don't have the will. The COURAGE.


So I step back from the edge, the end of my life.


Away from freedom.


And finally I turn my back from the glowing neon lights.


I'm so craven.

Craven AU - M.Y.Where stories live. Discover now