Terrible Hobo
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mean to make you cry. I wanted you to touch my pain – I’m really not sure why.
How did I think to give away this precious thing I have? The pain I feel, it comes from him – it’s something that we share.
The fear, the rage, the awful hope that live inside him still will, day by day, be put aside. Time knows how to kill.
The day will come – the bleakest one – I wonder what I’ll see when I look in a pair of eyes that don’t look back at me.
On that day, I share no more – the pain is mine alone. I hope that it will be content to stay in its new home.
In time the pain will leave me, too. But, what will take its place? Will emptiness and nothingness look better on my face?
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