Rough copy of something I plan on fleshing out. Inspiration really comes at a cost.
I wanted to put it out both as it was originally and as an intro scene in a play.


May 9th, 2011

Let me tell you something about failure.
That whole third time's the charm thing?
Bullshit.
Of course, the third time will work,
But it's nothing to do with luck.

The first time, it's devastation,
like nothing will ever work out right,
and the tears and the pain,
and the worst part, all the damn questions!
Everyone wants to know why, why, why.
Don't they ever think to just stop and
leave me alone?

And the second time,
It's not as much a physical wound,
As it is mentally, spiritually, and internally.
I ask God why he made it so,
Why let me suffer?
My attempts rebuked like something
pathetic and tiny on the floor. A bug.

And the third time?
Well, apathy is a slow growing friend,
At least, it pretends to be your friend,
Offering to numb the pain,
I met apathy the second time,
And by the third I really couldn't feel anything.
I sat there, looking out the window at the movement
Of passing dust and air and oxygen,
Thinking about how I wouldn't need those things, anymore.