A long, twisted poem about dark choices made in order to survive a terrible time in life. |
-Moving Sidewalks- by Keaton Foster Under My feet Dreams Below They go There They keep In the dust Down In that dirt They Those dreams Nor I Will survive God above Knows Understands He’s seen The father Won’t forgive Never Not close I can wish Pray Asking please No matter I’ll be Without question Judged Quite harshly Deservingly so These hands Controlled By this mind Driven By this heart Did What they did At that time Back then Way before Thus forevermore I wanted More than anything To somehow survive And at the time In that place To survive I had to do Without question Murder another He had a name Relation But I called him And I often still do The true darkness I didn’t enjoy it Nope Never How could I I hated the action The seconds it took To break that neck To squeeze that life Out of existence I detested it And myself For doing it But like an animal It became a case Of him or me People are dangerous And some situations Make them More animalistic More authentic Being twelve At that time Made no difference I became capable It’s amazing What people will do When they are In their minds Forced Moving sidewalks Are all around Made of substances Varying in color Consistency And ridiculousness There is no path No direct means Of location There is just dirt Dust and mud Vague foundations Constantly changing Leading me away From my true self Taking me deeper Into the escape Of my smashed fate Any chance I had Died on those days Back when I Had no choice At least in my mind To do what I’ve done I knew it then Just as I do now But I still acted As I did I took a life In order to save mine Sometimes I ask Ponder quite seriously Who wouldn’t do Of have done Exactly the same Under My feet Dreams Below They go There They keep In the dust Down In that dirt They are soiled Disgusting Impoverished fallacies That will never be more Because of the past Because of the choice It’s close The end that is God’s cruel game Maybe He’ll lend me peace Maybe He’ll take it easy Maybe the shifting path In which I’m upon Will become Straightforward and clear Maybe I’ll find a way After he judges me so Maybe his punishment Will be what I lived Since the days That I did what I did Maybe Moving sidewalks Shift back and forth Leaving me unsteady Leaving wondering Am I myself ready… Moving Sidewalks Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015. |