Why am I still sitting?
It’s far to late in the night to be up.
To be aware of your how your toes tickle on the soft part of the crunchy brown carpet.
Sitting and watching.
Like a cat, staring at a bird.
Unbeknownst to the four confining walls around her
And the deceiving glass, mocking her.
Laughing at her.
I sit and I ponder;
How does time pass so perfectly?
Minutes, hours, days, weeks, all line up so neat.
Numbers
And seasons
And night
And day.
All blur together and make the universe seem effortless.
Walking into a new year is like a movie never ending.
You expect the problems to solve,
The credits to play,
And then everyone leaves the theater.
But what if things keep going?
What if you’re trapped?
They lock the doors while the movie plays.
To keep everybody from missing the end.
So if the end never comes,
Do the people just sit and crumble and slowly loose their minds?
I don’t understand how everyone makes these jokes.
About how ‘I survived.’
And ‘can’t wait to leave it
all behind
when the clock strikes twelve’.
As if the entire world’s scars would heal
Pain would cease
Minds would calm
And missing would be found
Once the year just ended.
The sky is bleeding
And throwing away our calendars won’t seal the wounds.
We can pretend things can go back to normal.
Plaster on fake smiles
And watch as the seconds line up.
Watch as nervous laughter fills our streets.
Watch like the red will turn green.
But wouldn’t it be funny…
If the people all said it was over
And acted like they didn’t just witness
A downpour of chaotic pain.
They cheered
And hid their hurt.
But the sky still leaked red?