he steps off the plane
on the way down the ramp
for some reason unknown to him
he reflects on his life
a revelation of sorts
he looks to the right
he looks to the left
there are so many people
but not a soul that he knows
people walking around talking
about nothing that matters
there is zero connection
what is the point of all of these people
if he is still all alone?
he wonders if it’s too much
asking for someone that can relate
someone to understand the silence
someone to understand the pain
someone to understand that our pain
has scarred more than just our outer self
more than our inner self
it has damaged our souls
someone to understand that our pain
has planted us on the defective list
a list of which if we had been on the same list
in a grocery store we’d be thrown away
but this is life; the facts are that we’re damaged
we’re never going to “get over it”
and we need someone to love us anyway

Christina Bledsoe

Tags: Christina's Poetry //