Disclaimer: I do NOT NOT NOT NOT own the TMNT. Wait let me check that... yup, don't own 'em.
Author's note: I've read alot of poetry in the past and though I'd take a whack at it. I wrote this randomly two nights ago, reviewed it last night (I actually shortened it if you can believe it!), and posted it tonight. Don't ask me why I wrote this. I just did. I swear I'm not a mental case. Just read it and I'd love to know what you think.
Not really sure which turtle I'm writing about. First it was Leo, then it was Raph, then I decided to make it as vague as possible so you could all decide for yourselves and use those imaginations of yours. I'd be interested to hear your guys comments on the turtle you chose to imagine here. I also left the genders of the certain people in this stiry unknown, too. I dunno, I guess I kinda like it when people have to fill in their own blanks.
(I am also aware that I capitalized the word 'You '. I did it on purpose as to signify 'you' as kindof the person's name. If that makes any sense...)
Okay! Now you can read!
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I'm
a monster, a mutant.
Hiding
from people on the street.
I'm
a misfit, an outcast.
Someone
You never wanna meet.
I'm
really not a bad person inside,
or
turtle, as the case turns out to be.
But
no one would think to give me a chance
if
they ever caught a glimpse of me.
I
watch You from the rooftops
as
others, like You, pass below.
I
watch You trudge home, tonight,
through
the new fallen snow.
Watching
with envy,
as
You walk down the street.
You
are publicly accepted
by
all those that You meet.
But
unlike You I have a family.
Others
to call my own.
When
You arrive home tonight;
You'll
spend it all alone.
I'm
thankful for my luck.
That
my family's still in one piece.
I
don't think I could go on
if
their existence ceased.
I
dart over buildings,
watchfully
protecting You from above.
I
know it must be torture
to
continue on without the ones You love.
I'm
not sure how You're handling it.
I
mean, I can't just walk up and ask.
But
for some incomprehensible reason
I've
made watching You my task.
I'm
not sure I really think You'll need protection
from
street thugs after wealth.
I've
got this premonition,
You
may need protection from yourself.
You
enter into your building,
thinking
You're all alone.
I
flip onto your window sill
and
wait for You to enter the haven You call home.
I
don't have to worry; I can sit here freely.
You
can't see me out here at night.
Something
to do with the dark outside
and
the glass reflecting the inside light.
Don't
know why I've taken such and interest;
there
are so many others in this city just like You.
Others
with problems just as worse,
and
not all of them will make it through.
You
set your bags on the counter
and
open your cupboards wide.
Empting
your groceries,
while
thoughts drift to those who've died.
I've
picked up bits of information
of
the sorrows of your past.
How
one by one your family slipped away,
and
now You are the last.
Your
father was a peaceful man,
but
he dutifully went off to war.
Your
mother cried for weeks on end,
when
that fateful letter arrived at your door.
Your
brother went into a rage
and
ran away from home.
You
had to claim him three-weeks later,
dead
from a drive-by shooting, in a funeral home.
Your
sister couldn't take the pain.
She
turned to bottles of alcohol.
She
hid it so well, that no one noticed
until
she carelessly drunk drove into a wall.
Your
mother grew older and weary.
You
were all that she had left.
You
loved each other and tried to hold on
until
cancer claimed her in death.
I
grow listless outside.
My
feet and hands freeze trying to grip sleet
You're
fine, I'm sure, I mean you've kept on this far.
But
I guess I'll just stay here until you go to sleep
What's
this? You've stopped.
A
small bottle in your hand.
I
peer through the frosted window
trying
to glimpse at what it is or see the brand.
Stock
still and motionless
you
continue to stare it down.
As
if it is wicked,
but
yet, a discovery, most profound.
Then
suddenly You look up
and
glance about with care.
As
if You have a feeling
that
someone else is there.
But
I know You do not see me
as
you walk to the kitchen sink.
At
three stories up, You won't check outside,
as
You ready a tap water drink.
You
open the bottle;
pills
spill into your hand.
as
You begin to grind them
into
a powdery sand.
I
sit outside, shivering and confused.
Trying
to figure your actions out.
I
know something isn't right,
I
can see that without a doubt.
I
mean, there's way too many pills.
I
don't care how big a headache.
And
then it finally hits me.
I
see the deliberate error you're about to make.
I
see You pour the powder in your water.
It
looks milky white in your glass.
I'm
not sure what to do
But
I better do it fast.
I'm
running out of options
as
You raise the glass to your lips.
I'm
scrambling my brain for a plan
to
keep You from taking a deadly sip.
I
knock on the window.
Drawing
your attention from the drink.
It's
not exactly my first choice of action,
but
I didn't have much time to think.
You
put the untouched drink down on the table,
and
slowly advance towards me, crouching on the sill.
If
You don't like visits from little green men,
Well,
You're just going to have to deal.
It
feels like an hour passes while You cross the room
You're
walking at a slow, lingering rate.
You
nearly turn back once, then stop
a
few feet away from the window and hesitate.
Suddenly
the phone begins to ring.
Once
then twice. By the third You've turned.
My
rapping on the window
no
longer your first concern.
When
You hear who's on the other side
You
begin to cry.
You
spill your guts to whoever it is.
And,
to my surprise, tell them You want to die.
Not
so much as two minutes later.
A
car comes screeching down the road.
It
comes to a halt down on the curb.
A
figure jumps out and rushes into your home.
You
both embrace.
And
You begin to weep
Somehow
through the sobbing
You
find a way to speak.
You
explain the whole story
to
your comforting friend,
who
hugs You and holds You
as
You explain tonight could have been the end.
And
at the end of the story
when
You're about to drink
You
say You heard a knock on the window
'From
an angel', you think.
'After
all,' You say drying your eyes.
'If
it had not been for that one little sound
I
am certain that at this moment,
I
would not be around.'
You're
friend holds you closer
and
whispers a prayer.
and
thanks God for sending angel
to
be with You there.
I
smile wryly from outside
as
your friend hugs you tighter.
An
angel? Nice try. If I ever met one,
I'd, more than likely, frighten her.
You
sure got a sense of humor, God,
if
you're watching from up there.
I'm
a mutant, a monster;
that
doesn't change, so why care?
But
an angel? me?
I'm
classified as humanity's pollutant.
No
way. Were You really dead serious?
I'm
an unwanted, rejected green mutant.
Nearing
the manhole
that
will lead me home.
I
look up at the sky
where
the stars are free to roam.
I
feel a body-less presence
in
the cool night air.
I
know it sounds creepy,
but
swear something was there.
My
breath escapes my lips,
forming
a small cloud of white.
Something
or someone is out there
and
is with me tonight.
The
feeling stays with me,
even
when I slink down into the sewer,
But
no one follows me.
There
are no signs of, even a friendly, intruder.
It's
some kind of enigma.
Though,
it doesn't feel like a threat.
This
is definitely one night
I'll
never forget.