She was standing there,
Amid the movement of others,
Words thrown to her and above her,
But she didn't notice.
Time ticked, sometimes she talked,
And all at once,
Everything would stop,
Moving at a slug's pace.
She was pacing again,
She couldn't stop, and if she did,
Never again would she start.
She saw everything in saturation.
She saw things no on else could,
Or cared to,
And this is what it was called:
The future.
No way around the future.
Meteorites struck the bare earth around her. Rain fell.
There may have been smoke.
But, somehow, every lightning strike
Missed her.
There were no lightbulbs.
She is still standing there.
YOU ARE READING
Bent Roses
PoetryBent Roses is a poetry collection about familial devotion, love, and misery. It is about those nights when everyone gets home late and the first thing they say to each other is good morning. It is about believing in another person when you shouldn't...
