Date: 5-14-2024

John's p.o.v

The big man upstairs

has so many tears to

cry that he forgets about

the golden years. I will

try sleeping with a broken

heart on his behalf. His eyes

are on the dying sparrow with

so many special needs, I mean

myself. Reduced to fragments,

pieces of me float in a river of

sorrow chasing away any hopes

of living tomorrow. In the stillness

of this endless darkness, I am broken

and unspoken for every hour. There

is no peace for this restless conscience

of mine whose innocence remains lost

in the fire. Last gleam of hope, a pipe

dream suffocates underneath peer

pressure and fleshly desire. Breathing

is a conscious effort in a beautiful godforsaken

world where rules must be taken serious all

of the time.