April 15, 2014
I wanted to write
the saddest poem in the world. But most
of them just sound desperate.
I want someone to
trust. There was a girl who kept trying. But then she got tired and stopped. She was the girl who wanted to feel smart and
special, except that got tiring, too. It
was just so much work. Now she isn’t a
girl anymore. She is just another person
full of panic and desperation.
There once was a
girl. The saddest girl in the world,
because she kept believing. She thought
she was so clever and strong. She
thought she was different. She thought
all of the red lines would lead to one circle that would form a barrier around
her forever. But the red lines
didn’t. They just lead to more red
lines. She can no longer remember the
red line she started from. When she
tries to walk backwards nothing looks familiar—all she can see is what is in
front of her. The boy laying down the
red straws does not help her. He pays no
attention to anything other than the red straws, and to placing them on the
large, white sheet spread across the middle of the open market. No one cares about him being there and he
doesn’t care about them. He does not see
the girl standing in the middle of all of the red straws, trying to remember
where she came from.
Soon there are so
many straws leading in so many different directions that she loses hope. She does not understand the pattern. Only the boy does. But to him it is a math puzzle and you either
understand it or you don’t. He is a sort
of genius. He is the one who keeps us
all wandering down different lines, so that we never meet. We must never meet. We must never speak to each other. The boy’s job is to keep us all walking on
the same sheet, but never at the same place together. We must always remain lost and alone. It is a math puzzle. There is a solution but the boy genius will
never open his mouth. He talks with the
red straws. They tell his story for
him. And it is a beautiful story, in its
own way. A beautiful story of loneliness
and loss and of being lost until all wandering ends.
your promise on
the edge of my fingertips
and it falls
and it falls...
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