what it’s like to feel like this.
Oppressed under my own
everything else that is
Don’t ask me what it’s like to
not know this
and not know that,
and to be scared of what is
and what is
Don’t ask me what it’s like to
worry about you
and wonder what will be
or what will not be.
I worry about today
we’re not promised
maybe I should be
so if you are waiting for the silence to become sound,
For when the silence becomes sound,
Keep your head still, and i’ll be your thrill.
The night will go on, my little windmill.
Pioneered so many ways to degrade a human being,
That it can’t be changed to this day.
Legacy so ingrained in the way that we think,
We don’t only need chains to be slaves.
It was getting darker and darker with every passing minute.
When we had left, the sun was still a ways above the horizon,
Lighting up the sky with a pinkish-salmon color.
As I rode, it began to sink lower and lower, streaking the clouds with
reds and oranges.
I sat on my backside, my legs and feet out in front of me,
my chin in my hand, and my elbows rested on my thighs to prop my head up.
The ground grew increasingly rough,
bouncing me around in the red metal wagon.
I looked up at you, your head pointed towards our destination.
I couldn’t see your face, but I knew your eyes were sternly set,
and fixed ahead.
You pulled me along, and as the sky got darker,
we began arriving.
We passed dead trees whose black scraggly limbs reached far into the sky,
past what the eye could see.
We passed helpless little animals scouring under dead berry bushes,
and between rocks.
We approached the tunnel.
You looked back at me, and told me that you love me.
Just as “I love you” escaped from my lips,
a hot tear slipped down my cheek.
You turned back around and pulled me through the opening of the tunnel.
The sun slipped away and the dark of the tunnel got darker than dark.
I felt a chilled gust of wind on my face, and a distant scream
raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
You footsteps, steady and even carried us the length of the tunnel.
Little rats skittered about the floor and squealed in fear.
Snakes slithered along the rattling wheels of the metal wagon, their
eyes glowing and whispering, warning me of the doom ahead.
We neared the end of the tunnel and as the screams got louder,
a horrible stench filled the air.
There was a red glow about us, and now I could barely make out
the silhouette of your head and shoulders, pulling me along.
We began taking a path that took us past a series of pits,
about five feet deep and five feet in diameter.
They were filled with human bones and hot coals.
We passed more of these pits.
Some of them had very small bones in them,
and some of them had very large bones in them.
The muscles in your legs pumped hard, and your chest heaved a great deal
as you pulled me up a hill.
As we reached the top,
I noticed a figure laying on the ground.
It was ablaze, the flames reaching about 4 feet high.
It raised its head, and stretched out it’s arm towards me.
The bones in the hand were exposed and hot melting flesh was dripping off
the bones, and hitting the ground, creating small, heart shattering earthquakes.
The figure let out a deafening scream, and inhuman scream.
You turned around,
Your eyes glistening in the glow of the fires.
Your jawline set,
Your visage sorry, soft, and loving.
My face was wet with salty fear,
and all I could do was stare into your eyes and
You turned around,
and started down the hill,
and into the valley full of pits and
Nothing here’s real and everyone’s alike,
Cause everyone dreams of a millionaire’s life.
She throws up whatever she eats,
and leaves the bathroom with a nose bleed.
Regular girl, celebrity dreams.
She lives her whole life like TV,
and she would do anything for everything.
[Wale - 90210]
So many people in this world doing so much more damage than they really realize.
So I sit here like I have every day since the day that the unmentionable happened.
In this park. On this bench. Staring at these people as they pass by.
Staring at these mothers, just getting a few minutes away from their dysfunctional families to take a jog in this park.
Staring at the bachelors with their dogs, enjoying the weather after a moderately stressful afternoon at their day job.
Staring at these teenagers, hand in hand, loving, laughing, enjoying.
Staring, but not really looking.
What has always caught my attention, still, to this day, catches my attention.
The field before me, past the people, that holds the oak tree.
The rather large oak tree.
The mysterious oak tree.
The oak tree with leaves bigger than my hands.
The oak tree whose roots are pushing out of the ground bringing the dark, rich, earthy dirt along with them.
This is what has caught my attention every day since that day.
I look at the tree, and all living things seem to materialize.
All else disappears, leaving only me, and the tree.
So I sit here staring up at the huge oak tree, it staring back.
My wondrous stare, has it confused, as it glowers back at me.
Reminding me of who stands behind me, no one.
Reminding me of who is left, no one.
Reminding me of the guilt I have felt every day, since that day.
My heart skips beats as I sit here.
The chilled autumn breeze numbing my red cheeks.
Burning the inside of my nose as i breathe in.
Holding conversations with my mousy brown hair,
As I sit here, my tree looking daggers through me.
Wondering who else has been friends with the tree.
Wondering who else has had conversations with the tree.
Wondering who else has felt this way.
Somehow, the tree has kept me alive.
With all its menacing stares,
And gawking, sneering, at my poor and worthless soul.
Looks that can kill, can save lives.