One Hundred and Thirteen

April 22, 2012 § Leave a comment

This isn’t what you signed up for. As you hastily fade away your mind wanders back to that fine printed clause. Who said this was going to be easy? Your escape tactics are all but futile, but holding on no longer feels to be an option. With hurried choices you make mistakes. Regrets accumulate as the hole you dig gets deeper. The fresh, brown earth you pull up with your filthy paws smells like spring, but your heart is as cold as bitter winter’s frost.

The promises made were rushed and naïve. The cleverness of your recent maturity has but yet to produce instructions for escape. So you clamber like a child, make mistakes like a fool, and give little regard to the heart lying at your feet. Whether or not you get out alive is but your only concern. You jump through hoops but barely get your weak knees high enough. You work fervently to cover your tracks but forget a footprint here and a finger print there. You make your bed, but at the end of the day are too cowardly to lie in it.

What happened to the perseverance you were raised with? Where is that gent with high spirits and homespun morals? Within simple moments of deep seeded desire all is lost. The game ends, the heart breaks, and somewhere an angel weeps. If I had had but half a brain I would have seen it long before. The traps set would have been avoided; neither of us would have failed. But that doesn’t change the fact. This isn’t what you signed up for. Or at least you shouldn’t have changed your mind.

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