22. and nothing to show for it. nothing. no one. she is all alone in this world. and as the traffic rushes past her, as people are going on with their lives, they are all just blurred images passing her by ….everyone is walking forward, moving on with their lives. whilst she runs in the opposite direction with fear written all over her face….no one notices her
or her pain. her silent cry for help.
22 and nothing to show for it.
Its as though she has not even been born because her life has left no mark. She is invisible. She has no one. no one. Every day she sits at home alone….playing tug and war. Should she just try one more time? Maybe this time something extraordinary will happen?. but. it doesn't. back to square one. one step forward ends up being 10 steps back.
She sits there quietly, smoke in hand, flame held close to the tobacco, after it is lit she inhales….exhales….the smoke escapes and disappears as it touches the air every time, but she herself is up in flames on the inside. Soon the explosion which awaits her inside will leave something. at last something, even if its a black patch on the grass, a crack in the pavement, a footprint on the sand.. She was here. unnoticed. Stuck. Alone. After all.... her story ends with ashes to dust.