The+Figure

The figure
I feel stretched as though I am getting my life sucked out of me, all my existance. I watch, I see but I don't do. Life passes me by slowly. I am old, very old, my twisted face creaks in the wind. My arms once full of lush greenery are now empty. I rot within myself. I am dying. I am always watching, always learning always feeling the pain of an outcast. I watch peoples life going by. Watching their anger, watching their sadness. Yet they never watch me. Never look at my life. My being. Never pity me for what I am. Never seeing the pain that I have learnt to live on. Never seeing the pain that it causes me to be trapped. Trapped for eternity, trapped within my self. Never being free.

I just want to move, to not be a figure of everyones imagination, of my imagination. I am like a discarded piece of trash. Thrown away. Never being included, accepted. My life goes on and on. I have learnt to feed on my sadness, feasting upon it. Upon my humanity until...... One day everything was still, quiet. Too quiet. I felt something wrong in the air and then I felt my body give way. I heard the crack, my body broke. I fell. My body screamed in pain. Then I hit the cobbled stones.

If I could of, I would have cried and cried until I drowned myself and then I saw the light or to say, the peace. Peace without measure. For a moment I fought against the darkness. Scared upon what I would find despite the peace. But it hurt to much, so i gave up and welcomed the darkness with open arms. And at least no one would miss me because no one ever knew me. I died. And yet even though it was not known by nature, the world felt a sudden despair for its loss. It had failed, failed, failed.