99 Cents.


99 cents to my name.

A welling up of tears,

In a sea full of blame.

I’ve neglected to face,

This reality—now 15 years past.

Sunshine in a mountaintop meadow,

My awakening dawn.

When the birds begin to sing,

I’m born again—still with nothing.

A waist that’s grown thin and feet that ache greatly.

Each day,

My descent reminds me,

Just which world I’m living in.

When memories fade and nothing remains,

I’m reminded,

Just who in the hell I think I am.

Angered at others,

For their own misdeeds.

My own past lives,

Finally catching up to me.

A sorry work of art,

Pretending to be,


Something—worthy of good things.

Sadness weighs heavy,

On a heart full of anguish.

Happiness a glimmer,

In other people’s eyes and smiles.

My own reflection,

Just a pretense of my own hidden,


Waking reality.


Image: Flickr.


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