Part TwoA Poem by yourhaircutmanThis is based on a dream I had. I'm not crazy, I promise.Sitting in the middle of the road in a busy city, I cross my legs and stop the traffic. I'm surrounded by buildings that touch the clouds and people who slave away inside of them. I see people walking by, staring at me, thinking I'm crazy, but they're the crazy ones. They don't use their minds. They follow the pack. They don't know anything. I sit there and I close my eyes. I think about everything that has ever caused me harm. A girl who made me feel special, only to tell me I wasn't good enough; passive aggressive words from somebody who I thought was my friend; not being good enough for my parents. I think about this and I get mad. I start to feel my blood boil and I feel my face getting hot. I sit there and think about all of the times I've been disappointed, even though nobody cared. I think about it and clench my fists. I hear car horns honking at me, but I refuse to move. This is my home, too! I'm getting so angry that I start to yell. Just as I do, a building sets on fire. I hear screams coming from the building. It's one of the tall buildings. People are yelling for help. The fire is bad. I hear a firetruck approaching. I yell again. More buildings. I can't stop yelling. Soon enough, the whole city is lit up. Pompeii part two. People are screaming, crying, yelling for help. The more we yell, the more intense the fire. Everybody needs to learn to shut up. There is panic everywhere, but I'm sitting in the middle of the road, peaceful, now. I've seen this image too many times, the image of my life. My life is a giant hell, fire spewing, chemicals burning. It's tragic, but there's always beauty in the stories of those who suffer. Anybody have any marshmallows? © 2012 yourhaircutman |
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Added on May 4, 2012Last Updated on May 4, 2012 Tags: pleasewritehome, life, poem, prose, prose poem, fire, anger, angry, beauty, people |