Where Was I?
One day. 24 hours,1,440 minutes, 86,400 seconds.
86,400 windows of opportunity every day for death to extend its chilly embrace.
Or, any of those single few seconds that could be the happiest of my life.
One day in itself.
Why, pray tell, were so many years lost? Not lost to the recollection of events.
Lost to the dim blue light of the television, to the dull agony of perpetual stagnation.
To the shrill arguments disguised by walls whose coats of paint chipped and sullied.
To the feeling of not being seen, heard, nor understood.
To the isolation and self-destructiveness.
Why were those years hidden to the astonishing possibilities that 86,400 seconds bring with each sunrise and sundown?
Snow
It is dark out so off to bed I go,
Eager to wake up and play with the snow.
I have had the most magnificent day,
Although I can't find my gloves, it's okay.
I climb into bed with the heater on,
Observing the snow on the front lawn.
I'm woken up by someone at the door,
It is pitch black outside, the clock reads 4.
I hear my father get up to answer,
What is there makes him scream bloody murder.
My mother is up now, and she screams too,
Whatever is happening, I've no clue.
The screaming ceases, the house is silent.
I feel the presence of one who's violent.
I hear a heavy step on the first stair,
For a second my hands burn, just a flair.
Another step and the burn comes again,
I start hearing the voices of the damned.
The tips of my fingers start to dissolve,
It's on the last step, I let out a sob.
It walks in and I am without a plan,
There standing is a demonic snowman.
Three balls of snow, carrot nose and tophat,
I recongize it, of course, I made that!
I notice that it is holding my gloves,
It stares at me with something less than love.
I'm so shocked that I don't notice my hands,
they are meat and bone, the work of no man.
The snowman finally says his first words,
His voice is gravelly, just a bit slurred.
"Looks like you forgot these." The snowman states,
For what did I do to deserve this fate?
I close my eyes and attempt to pray,
"God is not here, maybe some other day."
The malicious thing approaches my bed,
I come to terms with the fact that I'm dead.
I keep my eyes closed, and I feel it's touch.
It's deathly cold, it burns, it burns so much.
There is no use in putting up a fight,
the cold overcomes me, and I see white.
Vigilant
The house is still and all is well.
They've been gone since the morning,
Making me the guardian.
Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.
I am perched at the top of the grand set of stairs,
Enabling me to see the entire house.
With my hearing however, my spot is almost meaningless.
Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.
I hear rustling in the corner of the TV room.
I hurry over to find a roach, and the problem is taken care of.
It was obviously born in the house, for
Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.
As I make my way back to my post, I hear people.
They are approaching the side door.
I sprint to the door ready to defend.
Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.
I hear the familiar rattling in the doorknob, the rattling a key makes.
I am overcome with joy as the door opens and they are there!
My job is done for the day, and I can rest until tommorow.
Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.