The man raced back on a warm December night. It was too late. The old man's dead blue eyes were staring up at me.
It hadn't sunken in. They were gone. There would be no recovery.
Relatives gathered in a room and some were texting.
No friends to text, he thought. Also, they found it quite egotistical to tell others about their loss.
Judas was all I could see, from people supposedly close to me.
It was partly their fault. Shutting oneself off from the world had its price.
The next year or so would be more of the same.
In the early days of 2011, they embarked down that depressing road.
I want out without a doubt.
A job kept them occupied, preventing an easy out.
It took a long time to get away from wanting that out.
From within it came to be.
Acceptance on what came to be.
There would not longer be a father figure for me.
Just death, baby.
The darkness helped get the depression out of me.
No suicide for me.
The fire still burns within me.
The lonely road is where I will always be.
It's the maverick within me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment