A storm approaches and I still hang with every fiber of my body to the rope swinging on the outside of the boat. I scream for help but they just stare, watching as the rope slowly breaks, thread by thread. It's funny, you know, how we hold on to things we just aren't meant for.
You wish things were different, that it didn't end this way, but we were blind, walking into our deaths. We toss and turn, praying for air. Traitors, that's what they think of us. Humankind sets the rules and those who don't obey, betray.
After all, we been through, we seek acceptance that is why we hold on to the rope. In the hopes to feel at home. What I didn't realize is that we needed to fall and get lost at sea to find a new boat to possibly call home. And yet, after all, we know we chose to hold on to the rope in hopes that it won't break as the storm comes.
YOU ARE READING
For All The Things I Didn't Say
Short StoryAs the darkness approaches, I search for the light to guide me through. A collection of very short stories & poetry written through my teen and young adult years that never develop into full stories.
