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.
