I watched.
I sat there,
And I watched.
I did not act, nor did I weep,
I just sat
And I watched.
I watched as my life
Crumbled into dust and blew away.
I watched as my family,
Shattered and broken,
Went down in flashes
Of light and fire.
But the worst thing that I watched
Was myself, my mind,
Slowly…
Fall…
To…
Its…
Knees…
And reach out
With a bony, disgusting hand
That already reeked of decay.
But I turned a blind, pitiless eye,
And I ignored that dying thing.
I abandoned it there,
To die alone.
And so now, I am alone.
Cold, angry, and alone.
I sat, and I watched
What I loved bleed and scatter,
And I didn’t lift a finger.
I watched,
And that was all.
Copyright 2009 by Rebecca Norman
Thursday, January 8, 2009
There He Lies (Sequal to 'There He Sits')
He used to sit there,
Eyes glazed over,
But now, he is gone,
Never to sit and stare again.
We still don’t know what happened,
Was it an accident or a plan?
One minute, he was there,
And the next, he wasn’t.
It was all so quiet,
No screams or shouts or gasps,
After all, he barely had
A life to lose in the first place.
There were no people
Coming in to visit him.
Nobody seemed to care about
The immobile, mindless one.
We aren’t sure where he came from,
As he was dumped on our doorstep
Many years ago, sixteen to be exact,
And he never once had a visitor.
But now he’s in a better place,
One full of movement and laughter.
Not this dreary, white-washed prison
That held him for sixteen long years.
Of course, he has visitors now,
Those silent shadows gliding past him new home.
But this one, instead of being so blindingly white,
Is made of wood, metal, and plush velvet lining.
He used to sit there,
Right there, by the window,
But now, he is gone,
Never to sit and stare again.
Copyright 2009 by Rebecca Norman
Eyes glazed over,
But now, he is gone,
Never to sit and stare again.
We still don’t know what happened,
Was it an accident or a plan?
One minute, he was there,
And the next, he wasn’t.
It was all so quiet,
No screams or shouts or gasps,
After all, he barely had
A life to lose in the first place.
There were no people
Coming in to visit him.
Nobody seemed to care about
The immobile, mindless one.
We aren’t sure where he came from,
As he was dumped on our doorstep
Many years ago, sixteen to be exact,
And he never once had a visitor.
But now he’s in a better place,
One full of movement and laughter.
Not this dreary, white-washed prison
That held him for sixteen long years.
Of course, he has visitors now,
Those silent shadows gliding past him new home.
But this one, instead of being so blindingly white,
Is made of wood, metal, and plush velvet lining.
He used to sit there,
Right there, by the window,
But now, he is gone,
Never to sit and stare again.
Copyright 2009 by Rebecca Norman
Too Close to Home
I am a child
And now all is well.
I sleep soundly in my bed at night.
A deep, childish sleep,
Like nothing at all is wrong.
And to me,
The world is perfect.
As it should be.
I am a teen
And now things are changing.
I sleep less, and worse when I do
A broken, teenaged sleep,
Like there is something wrong.
And to me,
The world is falling apart
At its seams.
I am an adult
And now there are problems wherever I look.
I haven’t slept for nearly a week, and before that was
A fearful, grown-up sleep,
Like everything’s gone wrong.
And to me,
It has.
Copyright 2009 by Rebecca Norman
And now all is well.
I sleep soundly in my bed at night.
A deep, childish sleep,
Like nothing at all is wrong.
And to me,
The world is perfect.
As it should be.
I am a teen
And now things are changing.
I sleep less, and worse when I do
A broken, teenaged sleep,
Like there is something wrong.
And to me,
The world is falling apart
At its seams.
I am an adult
And now there are problems wherever I look.
I haven’t slept for nearly a week, and before that was
A fearful, grown-up sleep,
Like everything’s gone wrong.
And to me,
It has.
Copyright 2009 by Rebecca Norman
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)