Better Days Than These Worn Out Nights

Making an impact at the giving point.

 

This neighborhood is filled with tension and anger

From the apparent screaming going on in the street

To this font, that is strangely pointed and threatening

To the chorus of dogs barking viciously

To even the trees, rustling restlessly

Needing freedom.

It’s not helping anything

None of the problems are getting fixed

Even with all this action taking place

Mother screaming at daughter

Daughter taking it in, silently giving up

Giving in.

I feel the population growing

Personal space becoming virtually nothing

Sister tapping me on the shoulder

I can feel myself snapping

Her impatience laced into her question

Wanting answers.

A deep breath appears before me, I exhale

The tension builds and builds

Everyone else is rooms and rooms away

But the anger in their voices flows through the walls purely and effortlessly

It doesn’t deserve to be, all those words

Harmfully tainted.

Time slides out of my grasp as I collapse on my bed

Thinking of better days, simpler times

Vacations were the only trips, guilt trips rarely lingering

How I’d love to make everyone happy

But it seems all I ever do is

Cry tiredly.

Author's Note

Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated as well as questions and comments.

Reviews

[Rachel DeHart]

This is incredibly powerful.
It has an alluring pull and beat to it, the imagery is graceful and I can feel the angry and the idea of an innocent world crashing down around you.

Great job.