We All Wish Maybe

Here we are again,

Laying on the white carpeted floor.

Tattered, stained, and useless.

Laying on the ruined floor.

Broken calloused hands,

Born in a dark caramel color.

Skin so worn cracks litter the surface,

A dimming light shining through the cracks.

A soul so tired it loses it’s shine, its purity.

Decaying knees, from holding too much on your crumbling shoulders,

You take burdens and let them build around you, consuming you.

Like bricks making a house.

The sun bathes you in a warm, pure light.

You think daily of the life you could have had.

The marines called to you like a swan’s song,

The life of a pro football player was a title that was just a couple yards away.

Maybe if the gun wasn’t raised against you,

Maybe if they never pulled the trigger,

Maybe if you didn’t end up laying on the ground blood pouring from your eye,

Maybe if you didn’t get violently jumped on the subway,

Maybe if the doctors could have saved your shoulder and knees,

Things would have been very different.

The scar over your eye is a constant reminder of the pain and anguish you felt,

The constant pain of hammers pounding against the bones of your legs, was a painful reminder of what you lost

It as something you learned to live with despite your agony.

Despite the ghost over your shoulder,

You learned to live with it.

The faces of your children, the smiling faces,

Gave you a feeling of utter happiness, and forgiveness in yourself and your past.

You closed the tattered, stained and broken book that had your name on the cover and opened the book that contained your children's lives.

Two of them have been almost completed,

Two new ones have been given to you, ready to be written in with the ink of life.