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Rated: E · Poetry · Adult · #2041683
A long, twisted poem about dark choices made in order to survive a terrible time in life.

-Moving Sidewalks-
by Keaton Foster
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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.

© Copyright 2015 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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