I came
I saw
I conquered
Yet in a sea of faces, I recognise no one.
The city is plain in its dry, drab, grey, and I lie dressed in my winter clothes. The snow is cold on my cheek, yet the dancing snowflakes in the air fall warm, like a sad ballad- and I wonder, was it to celebrate my fall?
I am bored with my life. There are cars that pass and slow down and passer bys that gasp in mortification, but my blood stains the white carpet like the leaves of weeping willows, and no one cleans up. My mouth hangs open with no words, and it is quiet, with only the rushing of wind and my wordless silence.
I could talk for eternity about the fall. It was most tantalising- my gut would lurch to my throat, my arms and legs spread in free fall, catapulting from the grey skyscraper, falling through the thick grey clouds, and I see the world; grey and white, going fast, fast, faster than my mouth runs. I taste my tears and snow in my mouth, and I think that the snowflakes look like teardrops in the air. But I leave them behind, I laugh soundlessly, laugh at the plainness of the 'bright' city, laugh at the silence without me to fill it. Laugh at the people who refused to listen, laugh at my laugh that bestowed no emotion upon my face; laugh when I hit the ground and cried from the pain of broken bones. I prefer that to the two words that hurt me most. I look like concrete, I feel like concrete, but I think I feel alive.
I am bored with my life. My bright red life-blood is a refreshing start to the city of grey, and my fall felt like flight.
I am bored with my life.
I am bored with my life.
I am bored with my life...