The life he'd built.
The dream come true
was killing him inside.
But no matter where he went
he couldn't hide from his decision
that he never would decide it,
lest the worst be blamed on him
instead of her.
only others' expectations.
Catering to future generations.
As if he were a clone
without a soul to call his own.
Losing every sense of his self-worth.
Running into reams of static
from memories stored in the attic.
To never dare the flight of stairs
that might relieve the bare
and empty hours where he
lingered as if dead.
filling up with terrifying
images of death and dying.
Losing track of time.
He didn't care.
Nor did he dare to make a change.
Or on whim, just rearrange a particle.
Repetition held him there, in place.
While time kept ticking off the pace
of speed that led back to the weariness.
And fires burned a million miles away.
No sleep for him.
He sought an emptiness.
Where all his weathered feelings
might retreat and he could rest.
that would lead him
to his death...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .