Sitting here dazed and confused waiting for the world to crash around me while people look on with their eyes closed to me and my life. Wrapped up inside a wall that blocks the darts humanity tosses at my flesh. Bruised and battered, I cry out but no one hears my agony. Passerbys just don't care that I'm here in front of them with my tears and my blood exposed to this cold world that for now is my abode.
My feelings are crushed, my heart is torn, and I am left to fend for myself in this world. Left to fend for myself in this world, left to find what's inside of me without anyone's ear to hear my ache; to hear my story. There is no one in my life to shield me from the stings that circle around on the wind slashing at me like a million tiny swords, which cut and stabs my soul. Leaves my soul, a wretched place to visit.
Watching them walk by as if they can't see me, makes me want to cry. Why won't they try to look at me? Is it too much to ask for just one soul to care that the roof over my head is cardboard or that my last meal was a dumpster buffet. I'm not after money for booze or for drugs; I just want some food that is safe and warm. People point and they stare as I walk down the road. I think, they think that I'm a little unstable but I'm not, I swear. I'm just down on my luck.
I'm down and it seems like everyone is taking a turn at striking my soul; knocking out chunks of ego, chunks of will, and chunks of esteem, but they don't seem to care, who they step on and destroy. They don't care that I cry from the words that they throw. They don't care when they see me bleeding from the punches that I've taken. No one seems to care that I'm just a teen who's down and out with no one to care for.
There are some who rise above the streets but I see no escape, no light in the dark, and not a kind face in the crowd, but I'm still searching and yearning for my savior to take me off the streets. I want to be free from the ball and chain that comes from being out on the streets. I want to be free to go home and be hugged by my family but I can't and so I dream in the dark of that place that uses to be my home.
These streets are mean and that isn't a lie because I've just found tonight, just found in a second, how horrid and unforgiving they can be. I went to sleep but didn't wake; I took my spirit and walked the lighted path, and left my body behind in my box. In the dark of night, I left the behind and found my Savior in death. Don't know how to describe it, this emotion that I'm feeling now that I no longer have to dwell in the darkness of the streets.
Recent Comments