Broken Down City

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 07, 2018

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Submitted: September 07, 2018

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Broken Down City
 
One day you’re going to run into yourself.
 
You’ll be deep in dilapidation.
 
There will be signs telling you to go back due to the weather, the looting, the shootings. 
 
You'll be there with two dead eyes, a crooked smile, and a gun. 
 
You'll be deep in there. 
 
You'll ask yourself to get out of the car and get on the ground. 
 
In this world you can.
 
In this world it's okay to do that. 
 
No one else will hear you scream and there is nothing you can say. 
 
There are other versions of yourself making the community, standing around watching. 
 
They may agree or disagree but it doesn’t matter. 
 
Their voices rise in an ocean that drowns itself.
 
You know what is happening. 
 
There is nothing you can offer for your life. 
 
The crooked smile you is numb and dumb.
 
He takes without replacement. 
 
He forsakes and is forsaken. 
 
He’s better and worse than you and he knows both at the same time. 
 
What can you give yourself when you want nothing but your gun and to kill?
 
His race is the only race. 
 
His fences are the lines of his nation, divisible if he wants to divide it. 
 
He is the end all be all and nothing is bigger. 
 
Not in his jungle. 
 
You went too deep in his broken down city and he can't see him in you because he can't see himself. 
 
He doesn't want to. 
 
He just wants to do what he wants to do and he knows no reasons. 
 
There are no reasons. 
 
So you are down on the ground holding a gun to your own head and while you are down there you are thinking of reasons you should let yourself go but you can't think of any. 
 
You are your own hostage of the times. 
 
You can't negotiate with you, who is your own god. 
 
A small god but nothing is bigger damn it. 
 
 
 

 


© Copyright 2018 Ford Darius Natirboff. All rights reserved.

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