By By Deacon Wolfe ’22
I walk these empty corridors of my complexion
No memories to occupy me
No painting of smiling faces to urge me onward
Just nothingness.
Emptiness.
Bitterness.
Resentment.
Hatred.
Locked are these doors
And burned are these bridges
For it is too late
I’ve already shut their hearts out
I’ve already accepted this bitter nothingness
That I feared becoming.
A door approaches me at the end of my journey,
Velvety red, gold engraved,
The knob’s opening thrusts me into somewhere new,
Home?
A raindrop falls, then multiplies.
Utter downpour.
I wade onward.
The city never stops,
The rain never stops,
The city never stops,
The night never stops.
Run, run, run away
I keep running and running and running and running
But there is no end,
There is no one to guide me on my way…
I’ve already shut them inside the walls.
I’ve let their hearts fade out.
I collapse from exhaustion.
The city fades, and all that remains are these tears of faltering complexions.
