Jar

This is what my town feels like.

This town is a jar
Full of hundreds of fireflies
That only try to escape into the night

Streaks of neon green
Paint the insides of the jar
Trying so hard and not making it far
These fireflies will die in an empty light

This life is a jar
Full of luminescent dreams
Ones that will die before ever being seen

Time has left them with
Weary hope and tired hearts
These fireflies will never escape this jar
The world will never see just how beautiful they are

My head pressed against
The cold, cold glass
I look outside
As the seasons pass

My hands leavings marks
On the cold, steel bars
My dreams slowly die
No more fire in my heart

Reviews

[Salvatore Buttaci]

Congratulations for winning the Lonely-Am-I contest!

[Jaeda]

To compare life to something so familiar and usually conotated as a happy summer passtime, such as catching fireflies, makes this poem different. I, living in a small town myself, feel a less concentrated form of this jar-life sometimes. Great poem, too. Thanks for the submission.