On these careless city streets,
strangers glance and look away,
and I watch them perform,
a parade of pretty things,
dressed in colors that hide
the darkness spreading within.
Under the neon lights I am lost,
one shade of gray in a sea
where black and white have blended,
and I search the passing faces
for a hint of something real.
In this place, I cannot breathe,
pressed by buildings and concrete,
speeding cars and flashing streetlights,
and the noise becomes a voice,
screaming in my head.
Only looking up at the clear black
of the night sky calms me,
reminds me of places without light,
deserts of sand and bodies of water,
places where being alone is all right.
And so I walk, on the sharp edge
of insanity, like so many others,
falling apart, leaving pieces of themselves,
on busy street corners and inside
fancy hotel rooms where
people will see, but not actually look,
and that makes it all right.
In a list
A contest entry
- Your Possible or Impossible Life by Rowan.
1800 points, ended April 30, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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You are a good writer, I love your style....nice flow with this.
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Nice job...I think we all feel this way at times...and then we are reminded that...this too shall pass. Nice flow with nice language and imagery.
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Yeah, alot of us live by dissassociating ourselves from what is around us. That chaotic sense of being a part of the insanity...
Interesting, and I really liked this one. Thanks for entering it!
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