Broken Streets

A dark piece that I came up with once during a dark time in my life a few years ago. I was seriously down when I wrote this.

The broken streets are cold and lifeless.

Hope has taken a holiday.

One thought that is shared in likeness.

There must be a better way.

 

I tried to find that alley.

Leading me out. Out of the dark.

But my dreams they just don't tally.

They keep on breaking. Breaking my heart.

 

We should be heading forward.

But we're going back. Back to the start.

We should never have bothered.

Because it's all falling. Falling apart.

 

The broken streets are stark and empty.

Nobody lives here anymore.

If I told you the truth would you resent me?

I'm only asking. Asking for more.

 

I tried to find salvation.

Leading me in. Into the light.

But there is no compensation.

We've already lost. And we're still losing the fight.

 

The broken streets are dark and lonely.

Sun's going down. It's turning to dust.

Respect is dead. Time of the unholy.

Anger and fear. Betrayal and lust.

 

I tried to find a reason.

A reason to fight, and to never give up.

But I'm guilty of my own self treason.

I've never believed in that kind of luck.

Author's Note

This piece represents a time in my life when I was extremely low.
Before I met the woman who helped me drag myself back onto my feet and who I now love dearly. It was a hard time, this piece captures it well.

Reviews

[QuietlyCrash]

Wow. Just wow. I know this feeling all too well and you've written it beautifully. You have captured such a dark moment in time that there is no way there isn't coming from personal experience. It's awful to feel so low and destroyed but it shows something of your character when you are able to pick yourself back up and fight. This is fantastic write, and I'm happy that you are out of that dark place.

[Jack...]

This is an exceptional piece. Indeed, the streets can be a very lonely place when the heart is not in one piece. I liked this. Nice one my friend.

[Brett Pritchard]

Thanks Jack, really glad you enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading.

I'll read some more of your work too real soon. ;)

BP

[Jack...]

So tell me, did this just roll out, it seems so fluent, like you just started writing without interuption until you came to the end?

[Brett Pritchard]

I was travelling home on the bus one day in a bit of a bleak mood.
The bus passed trough a very run down looking little housing estate. Border up windows and burned out husks of homes that were.

And I just started to say. In my head, right there. " The broken streets are cold and lifeless, hope has taken a holiday."

It seemed like a very apt visual representation of where my life was at, at that point.
When I got home I sat down with a pad and pen and here we are....

BP

[Jack...]

Very cool my friend.

[Brett Pritchard]

Thank you.

BP

[OBWhiteHawk]

This is an awesome piece and I love your pattern here, the way it flows, the sadness and despair so clear. I find your footnote interesting in that you did find happiness after all if this darkness and pain. There was a light in the end for you.

[Brett Pritchard]

Thank you!
Wow awesome you say? That's great to hear, thanks again!

A light? Yeah a found a light my friend, eventually. But the bulb still goes out occasionally.
Can take a while to find a new one at times.

Tank you for your review!

BP

[OBWhiteHawk]

I hear you dude. I am currently seeking the light myself. Glad you find it and yeah you are right, the bulb can go out sometimes.

[Brett Pritchard]

It's okay buddy. All we need to remember is to keep on moving.
Nobody ever found anything standing still.
And your work certainly seems to speak of someone very progressive indeed.
I'm sure your light is just around the next corner. 😊

BP

[OBWhiteHawk]

Yeah! Good to know. Forward, never back is the way to go.

[Brett Pritchard]

Right on.

BP

[David Lewis Paget]

I really like this piece, with its strange punctuation that pulls you up at each half line. The rhythm only slips in a couple of places, but it's eminently fixable. Just a few typo's here, "lifless - lifeless', 'resnt - resent', 'beleived - believed', and for some reason I automatically read 'Betrayal of trust' instead of 'Betrayal and lust'. Interesting poem.
David.

[Brett Pritchard]

Thank you so much for reading, and thanks also for your extremely constructive and instructive review. I'm always eager for the opinions of the accompanied, so I appreciate the feedback.

Glad you enjoyed the piece.

BP

[Brett Pritchard]

The jarring punctuation is a deliberate thing as you rightly observed, and also that line you mentioned about betrayal of trust?
It was originally going to be that, but I felt it was too predictable, and I feel that the change of the line does wrong foot the reader slightly. In a good way.

BP

[Brett Pritchard]

Oh and thanks for that handy bit of typo spotting there!
Duly corrected. 😊

BP

[Quill~]

This to me bleeds so much pain... a heavy burden upon the soul.
I sense a dark shadow looming inside your mind as I read this...eerily depicted, BP.


"The broken streets are dark and lonely.

Sun's going down. It's turning to dust.

Respect is dead. Time of the unholy.

Anger and fear. Betrayal and lust.



I tried to find a reason.

A reason to fight, and to never give up.

But I'm guilty of my own self treason.

I've never beleived in that kind of luck."

Well done...powerful!

[Brett Pritchard]

Thank you everyone for taking the time to read my piece, and thanks also for your very valuable opinions.

BP

[Phoenix]

Amazing.
I felt every word to my core as if you'd opened me up and wrote down what you saw.
Thank you for writing and sharing this.

[Alvin L. Kathembe]

Looking out at the world, things look pretty bleak, and I wonder if there is anything to live for. We live in a perverted world where every good thing is defiled, every truth tinged with lies.

"The broken streets are stark and empty.
Nobody lives here anymore.
If I told you the truth would you resnt me?
I'm only asking. Asking for more."

"The broken streets are dark and lonely.
Sun's going down. It's turning to dust.
Respect is dead. Time of the unholy.
Anger and fear. Betrayal and lust."

In such a world it is so hard to find something worth believing in, worth living for. This despair is brought out brilliantly in your poem.
However, I think some lines are a bit too long, breaking the rhythm of the piece - like "We've already lost. And we're still losing the fight." But one artist to another, I totally believe in sacrificing form for function, the style for the substance.
This is a potent piece - it is the world through disillusioned eyes, as the eyes of any truthseeker must be.
I'm glad you found your reason!