Coffee Break reading: A Long Way From Home

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I hate this…I don’t remember what you look like but I have an idea. My body aches, my feet are swollen, my heart seems to stay broken.

I hate this…I remember when you left home at 17 with fire in your eyes. You said to me, “I’ll have a pent house in the sky with all white furniture”. I smiled because you where so cute, so innocent, so green and so full of life. Your spirit was so bright.

I hate this…you loved hard for so long but never was loved back. I watched you day after day walk up and down the city streets. Alone. You looked content. You seemed fine.

I hate this…you got your first job and you loved it. You where like a different person as if you have found the golden ticket. You where high off the fact you could now take care of yourself. I mean thats all you really wanted anyway. Good job.

I hate this… why is your hair all over your head? Have you bathed? Have you ate? Wheres that man of yours that you put before me?

“He’s dead”. Oh.

I hate this…I saw you sitting at a bus stop crying. “Whats wrong?” “My life”. You looked dazed like you lost at something.

I did…

 

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