Cicadas

Cicadas buzzed all around while I sat on the roof top of broken dreams. I took a drag of a cigarette, a dazed breath of discouragement. Tomorrow, tomorrow I will quit. I promised myself quietly. We're born innocent, without sin, but to grow up is to give that up. It's something you can't stop, and before you know it, you're sitting on the roof of broken dreams and hopes. Another drag from my cigarette and it was gone. I pushed it into the ashtray, nicotine stained fingers. My foot catches on my chair and I fall to the ground scraping my knees. Blood oozed from my wounds, physical wounds just like my emotional ones. "Ouch!" I said allowed, moving from my knees to sit down where I had just fallen. Another thing I needed. Agitation grew deep inside me, "Why me?" Why!
 Was I always this clumsy? Emotionally I was, physically I wasn't always. If I could just find a way to push past my past and move into the present, would I feel joy? Would I feel anything? Something that wasn't agony. One day, I was promised by the higher power that I would feel joy, but when? How long till that day showed face to me. 
 I stood up on the roof, looking out into the night sky. A shaky breath escaped from my lungs, I would get through this. Brushing my knees off, I walked away from that night with an emptiness I'd hoped would go away in the morning when I awoke. For now, a night of nightmares to await me while I sleep. Until we meet again.  

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[Miss Sharon]

I too know these feelings and can relate to this post. I pray things will become brighter for you. Keep writing it out. I've found that it does help. ~Sharon