by ABIGAIL M. ADRIATICO
My presence is known to all, long before I arrive.
Each step I take leads me further away.
I like to think that they know I will come
on days they least expect me to.
Yet, I could already see their scowls from a distance—
expressions I am no stranger to
for I am never welcome here.
Their stares are cold and bitter,
wanting nothing more
than for me to leave them alone.
Should I take my rest right where they are,
hoping to serve a moment of solace
after their tiring days,
they all come running away.
I reach for their shoulders
but my touch is too cold for them to bear.
So I am cast aside,
hitting the asphalt ever so quick—
the soles of their shoes stepping over my remnants
while the rest of my soul comes crashing down further.
Oh, how my heart aches in despair
as it cries out its wish
to accompany those lonely souls
yet have them loathe the very thought of me.
Perhaps, I shall forever be chained to this lonesome irony. F
