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Rachel

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since November 2012
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Same Streets Changed

November 18, 2012
It’s crazy how you can walk the same streets you used to walk, back in the old days before there was any evil in the world, and see the same people and the same sights that made those streets so damn important. Nothing has changed. Yet, somehow, everything has changed. Deeper and darker lay the streets crisscrossed, jagged and important: a reminder of the length of the days of snipers with their sights. Leaving nothing the same in the world. Yet everything is the same in the world. Things preserved, nothing changed. The same old familiar sights, the same old familiar streets. A deep, permanent melding of the days – nothing left to do, well, nothing important. Okay, I guess a few things important may have changed in the world. A complete list may take days days of all that changed. Change both on and off the streets, in the sounds, smells, and sights. Violence permeated most of the sights previously peaceful and important. Those violent and peaceful streets that fill up the whole entire world. But only I can see how these changed, because I watched it many days Years made up of months made up of days I watched out my window all the sights so I would know how things changed. But what changed is not most important Not in this crazy, changing world – Not on these peaceful, violent streets. The days passed, so important – the sights transformed because of the world. I watched it change my peaceful, violent streets.
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