Wonders

Wonders. That is all we are. Constantly wondering to something new, something wonderful, something different. Something that is not us. We use things to distract us, music, writing, the tapping of a pen, but I cannot distract myself. They are on my sleeves as my skin it scream of how the distractions always failed. I wonder on a dark path with blood spills. It spils a path thicker than paint as it leaks from my wrist, and a tear breaks the pattern of the stained path. Thoughts from my mind fall out of my ears and paint the sky black. Bits and pieces of my body are turning to stone from starrring at my stained skin. I keep searching for my house of gold, my perfect distraction. But all I do is wonder deeper and deeper in my head. These paths they twist and turn andn there are roses everywhere. I keep painting them red as their thorns cut my skin. Something so beautiful can be so distructive, like me, like my thoughts. If I close my eyes and imagine really hard I can make these thorns go away, but all that shows up are guns, knives, and more thornes. The nives have become my fingertips, and I can no longer touch my face without harm. The gun is in my mouth, and it fires off words of hate. The thorns are pressed inside my head, trying to kill my mind and save me. But I close my eyes and continue to think really hard for this pain to end. For the blood to stop, for the knives to fall off, for my gunshots to run out of bullets, and foor the thorns to fall down and vanish. I cry for light to break through my dark thoughts and for things to be alive. I pray for hope, because in order to have hope you have to be alive. And I want to live, God, I want to see another tomorrow. Let me find a better path, I'm tired of the dark, it scares me so much. With my eyes stil closed I fall to my knees and cry. The smallest line of light hits my face. I open my eyes and the knives are gone, the cuts are healed, the gun has vanished. The flowers are alive, and right in front of me I see my house of gold. My distraction from the pain. Everything has life and is well. I'm done wondering, for I am finally out of my head. I have found a better tomorrow, I am no longer a wonder. I am living, I am free, I am a house of gold.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
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