A Day in the Life of the Human Race (Poetry Volume I)

Days Past

Looking back on days past.

And as I look back, it almost feels as though I am wandering through my old ghost,

Reaching out to touch the fading shadows and memories.

For I run and play in the yard with my old self, climbing trees and wishing to run away.

To reach out just to touch, but finding myself invisible.

To try to explain that I don't need her approval.

I never have and I never will.

But I am but a shadow, and can do nothing but watch as I sob in the corner, ripping the little flowers out of my hair and asking for contact lenses.

To let myself know that I was never ugly. For I was but a human,

A small human that thought for sure she knew what was best.

But she did not.

I would go over to my twelve year old self and whisper in my ear,

"You might want to bring a tampon with you, for today is the day lucifer will perform his very first ritual on your uterus, and he will ruin your favorite camouflage shorts"

How ironic it was that I used camouflage to stand out.

And as I watch myself throwing my chair across my bedroom, screaming and crying and crouching down in the corner.

Wanting once again to be invisible.

For maybe I can put a hand on my own damn shoulder.

And hand myself the needle to stitch myself back together.

I cannot do that.

But you know what I can do?

I can float over to my present self whom is currently lying in bed typing this as we speak.

And I cannot just whisper ever so softly in her ear,

"Carpe diem"

AN: that picture is of jchristo and myself. Seizing the day and dancing in the sunset with Paul and Cathy.