AN: I don't own this. Any of it. And if you review, I'll review one of your stories! Thanks for everything! And a (virtual) cookie if you can guess all of the unnamed people!
You were standing in the wake of devastation
You were waiting on the edge of the unknown
With the cataclysm raining down
Insides crying 'save me now'
You were there impossibly alone
The man stood alone on the corner of the desolated street, home of the druggies and alcoholics. Ahead was the unreachable good life, where the blonde man walked into a huge corporate building, his always forgotten secretary walking in late every morning. Where the chef and his waiter worked each day until two. The bookshop whose owner worked six other jobs to keep going. The punk literacy teacher and his American boyfriend. The man watched the life he could never have.
He was born to a whore who gave him to the father, a alcoholic, who abused him, hit him, hurt him and then he had left. The man tried so hard but never amounted to anything. He got a collage degree and got a job, but they cut him, and now he worked twelve jobs a day plus favors just to get an apartment, and sometimes a bit of food.
Once, he had a brother, but they gave him away, keeping this man as a punching bag, nothing more than an object used to many times. But he remembered his brother very well. He had blonde hair and bright blue eyes and always followed the rules and was the sweetest child you'd ever meet, even beginning in a home as bad as his. His brother, Ludwig, was with them until he was four, and then he was gone, given away. This man was never aloud to touch him, to play with him, to interact. He was only nine, but he understood. He wasn't good enough. He was never good enough.
The man stood on the corner, red eyes peering past the traffic, watching the Italian twins open their Gelato and Pasta stand,the Spanish man protecting his little sister, the tired broken and flirting Frenchman. And he wished he could have a good job again. Twenty-seven and working twelve jobs, Gilbert Beilschmidt stepped in front of the oncoming traffic and wished for death.
Everyone stopped and stared as a semi-tractor trailer hurtled down the road, hitting the white haired man, running him over, and continuing without even noticing. The man embraced death with open arms.
The Literacy teacher called nine-one-one. The Italian brothers started sobbing. The Spanish man picked up his sister. The waiter dropped his tray. The bookstore owner grabbed a book of CPR. The police showed up.
The man was loaded into the ambulance, people looking on. The only time he was noticed, was his death. And minutes later, the all went on with their lives, forgetting the dead man without a family or home, without love or friends. The man who had lived a life and had come to nothing.
Do you feel cold and lost in desperation
You build up hope, but failures all you've known
Remember all the sadness and frustration
And Let it go
Let it go