I feel the pain of adolescence deep within the cement filled cracks of my heart.
Rigid and tilted. Broken and crumbling.
Weeds escape through the holes looking for the light of truth like dandelions burst from the driveway cracks in the sizzle of July's sun.
But here they are met with darkness.
No rays of light to guide them.
Just more destruction pasted over with sloppy, wet, dripping cement.
Barely able to keep the fixture together.
Repaving old cracks while keeping up with new ones.
A project managers worst nightmare.
Covered in sweat and blood, he gives up and moves on leaving his tools behind in the chaos and defeat.
It all crumbles once more.
Open sores with which to fill with loneliness.
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