A foot rises, it falls, then the other.
Again and again.
A delicate ballet of movement.
Suddenly a weight bares down with a force of a thousand hands.
Heavy are the feet, slow is the movement.
Stairs rip up from the ground. Upward into the dark, dismal sky. Never ending stairs, all up hill, steep and jagged with shards of disarray.
A girl, bare feet bleeding, looks up into the darkness.
She cries. She cries out from hopelessness, agony and confusion. Her tears as deep as the ocean, as steady as the raging rapids. Her hands tremble with anxiety shaking like a shivering dog.
Her throat closes up and she gasps for air, the cries now bleak.
She is confused.
She is lost.
She looks at the stairs and back at where she's been. She's ashamed of what's behind and terrified of what's ahead.
The climb. Struggles. Blood, sweat and tears. She longs for a home yet no body's home and there's no where to go. She's lost inside looking outward into surreal sadness.
That girl, she is ME and I am her.
We are one in the same. Breathing the same thick air, feeling the same afflictions, existing as one.
We are what we've become yet that's a question still in motion.
What are we? What am I?
Tiny fragments of thoughts, memories, yesterdays, today's and tomorrows?
A subject of a scrapbook sitting on a dusty bookcase of a distant relative?
I don't know who I am. I am uncertain I ever will.
I try and fail and repeat.
Those stairs, they are my life.
Where I've been and where I am going. Into the unclear gloom, the night, the days, the hours and minutes. Time never stops though I am screaming for it to fast forward, rewind, and replay. Rewind and replay the fond times of happy smiles and laughter and fast forward through the stabbing pains of a broken heart and shattered dreams pausing only for recoil and lessons learned.
My mind never stops thinking, thoughts clog up my brain like a hairball in a sink.
Backing up, building up until they suddenly overflow. Half of them logical and the other half are as bizarre and misunderstood as the being I am. Just as this writing has poured out from my harrowing mind.
I am drowning in my own doings.
Lifelessly dragging myself up the monotonous staircase of life.
Again and again.
A delicate ballet of movement.
Suddenly a weight bares down with a force of a thousand hands.
Heavy are the feet, slow is the movement.
Stairs rip up from the ground. Upward into the dark, dismal sky. Never ending stairs, all up hill, steep and jagged with shards of disarray.
A girl, bare feet bleeding, looks up into the darkness.
She cries. She cries out from hopelessness, agony and confusion. Her tears as deep as the ocean, as steady as the raging rapids. Her hands tremble with anxiety shaking like a shivering dog.
Her throat closes up and she gasps for air, the cries now bleak.
She is confused.
She is lost.
She looks at the stairs and back at where she's been. She's ashamed of what's behind and terrified of what's ahead.
The climb. Struggles. Blood, sweat and tears. She longs for a home yet no body's home and there's no where to go. She's lost inside looking outward into surreal sadness.
That girl, she is ME and I am her.
We are one in the same. Breathing the same thick air, feeling the same afflictions, existing as one.
We are what we've become yet that's a question still in motion.
What are we? What am I?
Tiny fragments of thoughts, memories, yesterdays, today's and tomorrows?
A subject of a scrapbook sitting on a dusty bookcase of a distant relative?
I don't know who I am. I am uncertain I ever will.
I try and fail and repeat.
Those stairs, they are my life.
Where I've been and where I am going. Into the unclear gloom, the night, the days, the hours and minutes. Time never stops though I am screaming for it to fast forward, rewind, and replay. Rewind and replay the fond times of happy smiles and laughter and fast forward through the stabbing pains of a broken heart and shattered dreams pausing only for recoil and lessons learned.
My mind never stops thinking, thoughts clog up my brain like a hairball in a sink.
Backing up, building up until they suddenly overflow. Half of them logical and the other half are as bizarre and misunderstood as the being I am. Just as this writing has poured out from my harrowing mind.
I am drowning in my own doings.
Lifelessly dragging myself up the monotonous staircase of life.
