The fork in the road:
Which way to turn.
The eyes staring back at him:
Absent: the jungle of emotions, the wild, haunted glare.
Present: the vast void, mirroring the desert of his soul
Deep as his reticent desperation
Echoing from inside his armored shell.
Tire of being the victim
Tired of being the outcast
Tired of being the misfit, the doormat, the laughing stock.
Each lash of their tongues tore a thread from his heart.
Promising, splendid fabric of hope eaten by acid
Nothing remains but spiderwebs-
Decorated by his mother’s tears glistening in the sunset –
The final dangling treasure suspended in time.
Their once saving power now meaningless against the
breaking waters.
The spring will be released- the bullet will fly.
Hero or monster?
Hunter or prey?
The end of the day will tell.
Unnoticed, the overture passed- the tragedy will unfold.
He blinks, takes the gun, picks up his backbag
And leaves his childhood behind.
(2-27-12 BEL)
(2-27-12 BEL)
Very powerful. Love your use of words.
ReplyDeleteLove the new blog. You're a gifted writer and photographer. Looking forward to your work in the future
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Monica and fanficwriters- Glad you came by to check it out!
ReplyDelete