Mr. Farther

The halogen street lights are calling you by name, Mr. Farther. They see you in your miserable motions and hear your insides eating themselves. They want you to join them in lofty indifference, as they are above the atrocities of this age, and they act as an anchor for others, like you, and also like you, they have their own problems to deal with, the same problems that they ignore in order to help others, when in actuality, it is them who need the help, and the only ones that can help them are the ones that are guided by them. They can’t help themselves, and neither can you, Mr. Farther. What are you waiting for, Mr. Farther? The clacking of your heels echoes against the brick walls of your inner sanctum, Your pacing, thinking, praying, cringing, waiting, but for what? A response? A reply? Anything? Patience, Mr. Farther, patience. I know you want answers now, but… you’ll just have to wait. Put your focus on something else, like your dreams, ambitions and future. Sometimes, you have to put your heart aside.