You look into your eyes and the mirror talks back
"Time is a bastard"
It always tells on you and snitches to the moon about your tired eyes. You keep thinking, what breakfast to cook tomorrow, how to clean this and that shit, when is he going out and the children would be back home – since he will go for another foreign trip. He does that to you every two months. And you know how to pretend with the stars when you stare at them and sigh about signs. You couldn’t learn from your parents that there was no sign when two people got tired of each other. Sick at the very sight of another's smile.
Are you waiting for the twins to turn 17 and kick you in the face like the way your brother did, when your mother turned at his threshold with little Lucy? You were small and naïve back then. But for God’s sake how much pain did it take to be matured. Your drunk dad got laid with another woman, who’s fault was that? Perhaps it was honestly in the first place. And you insisted your parents loved each other. No wonder you are in shit right now.
As you trip on gravel that dresses the floor of your empty house at night, David thinks of you. Remember David, the one who brought you flowers and said you were beautiful, even if you had braces? Bloody braces. He even drew a sketch with the braces on. How truly pathetic. You are pathetic. Breathing in the ruins of a whore fucker. You knew he couldn’t stay committed, but you wanted a house. A big house. A big empty house is all one can get out of melancholy. You should know it before you become the house, become the shit that you chose. You should know David still thinks of you and the bastard time never snitches behind his back. It forgot that he existed.
And in no time you will become David. A ghost.
Author notes
i am not sure about this...
princesh.
A contest entry
- Challenge Eleven of Thirteen [INVITE ONLY] by Naridill.
1800 points, ended May 24, 3 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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everyone is indicating how rushed it seems
but i took that as being part of the overall idea
life is moving too fast, the world around us is moving without us
who are indulging in past situations. -
Fascinating...
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I love this.
I think it could come off as rushed, but that gives it an urgent undertone, which it is an urgent piece. Something the writer (you) feel you need to get out, and fast before it eats you up.
Again: I love this.
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Sulfane you are completely wrong. Rifat has not only used the "profound language" in a legitimate raw fashion but created a shibboleth which sets her apart from most, don't take the piss.
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awwww 
how cute. personally, i consider this as one of my weakest. but i love you, thanks dude 
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ahhh, there is something about this is ...so appealing..may be the realism...yes, the idea of looking at something without pretension...excellent work...PK
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I hated the title. I really hate profound language - it's ugly, and no matter the reasoning, I find no beauty in those words for titles. Apart from that - you gave this something that had edge but I didn't feel it was up to your complete standard. It has a somewhat rushed feeling but also the flow and smooth use of life and emotions that you normally dig within.
Thanks for entering,
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i am sooooooooooo sorry... honestly, i wrote because i had to... that kind of reflects from the piece. and i am sorry because i really do care about challenges and all, but i was not in a mood for writing. "shit" just came out... lol, maybe because i thought i was writing shit.
sorry again heather i have a next chance don't i? 
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It's ok. Next round was just posted. You have been linked via IM.
& in advance.. don't shoot
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I hate big houses. My house at home is big... and I don't dare staying home alone. I'm a scaredy cat like that.
That family mumbo-jumbo sounds a bit familiar .. perhaps something that just escaped my memory because it happened so long ago. You're right - families are bastards. Not the direct family [mom, dad, etc]. But the relative ones. Always have something to spit in your face.
♥
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