My Never-ending Story…
A Poem on December 7th
I woke from my dreams and looked around. I didn’t see a home. I saw a hell from which I could not escape no matter how hard I tried to effect a positive change.
I took a shower and when I was finished, I looked in the mirror. I didn’t see life, only the hollow spectre of it, an automaton running on fumes.
I went into the kitchen to eat breakfast. As I looked through the cupboards, I didn’t see sustenance; only the burden of a ritual I must perform because the discomfort of hunger is worse than the alternative.
I turned on my computer to watch a video. I didn’t see entertainment, only a temporary distraction from the ache inside my mind, the tedium and uncertainty of a life lived on the low end of society.
I dressed and went for a walk, as they said it would help ease the pain. I didn’t feel relief at the prospect, only reservation and anxiety.
I walked down the street past my old school. I didn’t see happy memories, only the shadow of inequity and social shame, the ghost of a child needing acceptance, but receiving scorn for his naivety and misplaced trust.
I meandered through the park and spied families enjoying the day. I didn’t see happiness, only the hole inside my heart, a heart that had atrophied from the…
