An- Short story based on my morning
The buzzards circled the building
Their knarled beaks sqawking open in laughter
Their long claws curled around the lip of the building
Well fine the first sign was the cloud of nerves that hovered over me that morning
The sickening feeling that left me poking at my breakfast
And well.. the "buzzards" were actually crows and Canadian geese
Their voices echoed over the courtyard
Peoples heads tilted up to see the sight
The concrete scraped at my shoes and I kicked at a small pebble.
An in perfection like me. Any bumps or groves smoothed out but still sticks out from the mold of society.
I'm free
But different
I meet up with my friends
A huddle of people under and old pine tree.
I don't speak
I don't say a word
Because they won't care anyways
"How's your morning?"
A shrug
I watch their conversations outside my body.
Floating just out of reach to care.
YOU ARE READING
Words that I won't share with anyone
PoetryI don't care if you read this. Words are meant to be put out there Even if no one reads it. Or cares. This is Poetry that I write I'll share my own words, if you want you can too. Just sharing some thoughts. Anyone who is lost can come here. If you...
