I wrote this today while sipping americano in a coffee bar. I’m not sure if that makes me a hipster or not.
“How long have I been here?”
Face pressed against the glass
Of the windows in what once passed
And he tries to recall
What started it all;
The catalyst so small
Which set in motion the wheels of fate,
Driving him along the road to self-hate
While simultaneously promising to create
A better life.
But he can’t;
His mind is too clouded,
And his memories are shrouded
By the rage which now defines him.
Then the rage gives way to apathy.
But then, something stirs inside him,
And he becomes determined to change this.
To escape this prison.
So he takes the decision
To make the incision
Which will annihilate the visions
Of the past which haunt him.
He reaches for the key, all
Sharp, solid steel,
And as it enters the softness of the lock he can feel
It seal the deal.
And as the blood starts to congeal
He can finally see.
“This place is not for me.”
And the tranquility allows
Him to be free, for now.