Down the road,
Over a creek,
Near a forest,
With one beautiful tree.
Skipping as I go,
Picking flowers
Whilst they bloom.
Laughter here,
Giggle there,
And the joy that fills the air.
Smiling, I am one with the breeze.
So I continue,
A summer's breeze,
It was
Cool
As a desert's night,
Yet comforting,
As hot cocoa and cuddles
Finally, I arrive, and in front of me lies
A Park.
Childish shrieks,
Swinging swings,
Jumping ropes,
The thud of the footsteps
Of a million children,
And freedom.
Happiness.
And then
A fall
A scratch
A boo-boo.
Boo.
Frightened, and anxious,
I walk faster
And faster,
Till I reach
A marketplace.
One dollar.
A sale.
So last year.
Bargaining.
Fights.
Quarrels over the last set of
Mexican Jumping Jelly Beans.
What happened to the sharing?
The freshness of the items?
The quality?
Speeding up,
Down the block,
And around a corner,
I look down at an alley.
Dark and Dangerous.
Why dark?
Why must such a hideous place be "dark"?
Why must "dark" be so misused?
What happened to the beautiful little
Man-Cave
My father had made there
When he was a boy?
he had passed it down to me.
It needs some light, to be a bit more white, he had said.
I refused. Dark is fine. Dark is beautiful.
The starry sky stands out because of
Night,
Not Day.
And so I run.
Fast.
Anxious.
Aware.
Worried.
Scared.
And as I run,
Out of breath,
Legs stiff,
Lungs burning,
Throat sore,
I continue.
Never do I stop.
Until I reach,
Just done the road,
A forest.
Over a creek,
Crossing my bridge,
Standing in front of
My One Beautiful Tree.
But why was it cut in half?
[~S~]
Written on January 30, 2015
YOU ARE READING
This is Me
AcakDo not read this if you don't wish to. This isn't a story book. It's me, my life, my fate. These are my feelings. This is my story. And I would like to share it with you, if you allow me. Give me a chance, maybe I can change your world. Maybe. You...
