The "f" in Life

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 27, 2017

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Submitted: April 27, 2017



If only this lie could always be this good. Allow me to elaborate if I may. That last spoon of cold frosted flakes right before you down that bowl of cereal milk. Your grandmother's cornbread or morning biscuits with grits. That last sip of tropicana out of the carton before you finally decide to exhale. Or some spring water on a hot afternoon you almost choke on because you innately forget how to breathe while you're chugging that precious fluid over the oxygen your lungs need. Sun flower seeds on the block scattered about along the sidewalk from the young ones testing one another in a competition to unshell and spit the fastest. Remember WB kids after school? Or better yet that walk home with friends that afternoon. When the days were longer and the sky was broader before we discovered the reality that hid from us behind our innocence. Sometimes I tear up at the thoughts. Remember when you could leave the corner store with a black plastic bag with a few snacks with just a dollar or fifty cent? I remember out running the street lights after we played touch football or baseball in the street because there was once an era where you could actually accidentally lose track of time. Now we lose it habitually or without concern. I remember when the term friend meant family, it was actually the definition found in any Webster or Thesaurus. Now it's just another empty term going out of style that's damn near prehistoric. Now loyalty to alot of us adults is a primitive format we no longer align under. Wait I'm not done reminiscing, who remembers when sleep was a choice and you actually would arise with the sun or the stars on your own terms if you decided to even go to bed to begin with? When a nap felt like a millennium and you woke up in a new age in less than a day. I could say I pray, but like all others I wish, while I try my absolute best to keep a faith I'm not even sure makes sense any longer under the preconceived falsehoods of being an adult or—is the truth in innocence the fact that it was ignorance? An entire stockpile of lies that supplied the ammunition to alot of bullet wounds to a naive younger generation who believed every word as the world was promised to us, and as much as they call us a whiny, spoiled bunch. Which some truthfully, are. Even those of us who are striving diligently can now see the unyielding truth and scattered remains of the illusions we were sold, while we tear through that synthetic fabric. How frigid it is to realize that the very opposite of what we were told and taught during our free trail is reality; a fable. The day that eighteen year subscription ran dry...

Was the day I realized that the "f" in life was silent.

- V

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