I'm sick of feeling feeble, I'm sick of feeling sad. I'm sick of missing everything that I never had. I'm sitting on a little bridge over a small stream. I wish, I wish, oh how I wish my life was all but a dream.
I hear the ice cream truck coming my way. What a peculiar time to sell ice cream, I say. The van man smiles toothily at me and hands over a cone. Instinctually, I am frightened to the bone.
I turn and run. Van picks up speed. I can't run faster, I can hardly breathe. The van man is laughing maniacally whilst the road is tracing our chase dramatically. I'm crying so much that I start laughing too. I guess that's what you do when that's all you can do.
I stop abruptly and so does the van. I turn around slowly to see the ice cream man. In his hand is an ice cream. I look up one last time to see the moonbeam.
The ice cream man kills me, again and again. This is why no lady can trust any men.
YOU ARE READING
Turquoise Emotions
PoetryI am trying to cope with my chaotic, hectic self. These are my late-night thoughts.
