Have you ever looked at an abandoned building and wondered how it became so deserted, what kind of people lived there, whether they were happy or sad, and what their story was, regardless if it was a piece that the NY times would never pick up? The happenings in each hotel room, the moment you pass them on the road? If the people that’s been missing for years on the posters are really okay somewhere and just had to escape someone or something to be okay? If some of the fugitives are really like Harrison Ford? They’ve been set up, unable to prove it and without a moments rest to grieve for their loved ones, because they’re always on the run. Remember the part when he rests for a fraction of a moment and finally begins to reflect, miss and grieve for his wife that he was accused of murdering? And, before he could complete his thought he was discovered and hunted again?

Ever watch and wonder why the guy at Martin’s takes his break and sit on the hill near the highway, staring into something you can’t see? What the coded poems and pictures mean? What people are really thinking while they speak? Are the people searching for another version of themselves in someone else going to be okay? Is everyone really okay? Why we think about these things? Are we desperate for a deeper meaning that familiarity lacks? Is reality too much of a massacre to face? Whatever the case, hope should not be displaced. Tears are okay, they mean you’re still able to feel, strong enough to handle what’s real and what tomorrow might bring.

Snow Whites and knights, they don’t realize they were meant to be your equals. The mirror should have been poisoned, an attempt shouldn’t have been made towards you, but reprobated minds can’t always be reached. They don’t care to pull their insides out, then ask the mirror what it sees. Despite the brigade of faces on the one body we see, they may give an entertaining show, but when their curtain closes they don’t tear, they bleed. You only need one and this is the reason why they bleed. You are what you appear to be. Not what you pretend to be.


One thought on “Scatters

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s