Ash

Is it too much to ask for someone who understands me when I don’t understand myself? Is it really so hard to find someone who will stand by my side when I want to escape from my own skin?

The winds blow a bit colder, the clouds turn a bit darker again. Someone’s built a dam in my river. There’s no way for the water to flow, pebbles and stones bring the journey to an end.

Things will get better. Life will get brighter and more fun to live. That’s what someone told me, anyway.

Perhaps it’s a fools errand to go looking for something more. Maybe these short-lived days are actually meant to keep us alive.

Still, I can’t seem to find a path to walk on. And those that look as though they’d lead in the right direction are paved with hot embers and ash.

In the morning, you’ll find me lying on my stomach on your neighbour’s bathroom floor. With the door locked and the windows barred.

They say that life’s worth living. But when will it pay out?

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