Not really a short story, but not a poem.. |
*** please know this is raw.. i decided that it's beter like that.. i wrote this early last year.. it has a childlike feel that i want to keep.. please understand.. *** THE PLAYGROUND: Looking out the window, i see a little girl standing at the fence, staring at all the kids playing on the playgrond, having fun. It happens to all kids. They grow out of the monkey bars and slide. But it is so much more than that. The untouched play there. At some time, kids leave the playgrond. That place where the most magical of dreams are always possible. Kids are only sopposed to worry about who is faster, and who is better. Not like me. I was forced out of what they call a childhood by the peple that i thought loved me. Theres not anthing keeping me away from the playgrond. But i dont belong. The playgrond is for the untouched and the innocent. I am not like that. I know in my heart the bad stuff of this world, and i cant go back. I can never block out the memories and forget. At nights i sometimes cry for the little girl. I cry for the little girl that should play in the playgrond. The girl that was sopposed to be good. But she wont come back. |