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Liam Kleinberg Jan 2015
Some people spend years trying to find what they really want.
Nobody really knows if they are content with being content.
Married by twenty-five and three kids by thirty-three.
A nice suburban house with double doors and everything you've ever dreamed of in the hard wood floors of your newly renovated kitchen.
Your house is littered with toys that you don't even remember buying.
Constant arguments over why you spent two hundred dollars on a purse but you swear to God it's designer and completely worth it.
Your children are sneaking out at night and you snoop through your daughters diary because you say you think she's on drugs but really you are just nosy.
You have boring, repetitive missionary *** every other Tuesday and you are sure that *** didn't used to feel this dull.
Your children leave and you are left with a near empty house again.
You spend your time with golf and knitting class to try and fill the gaping hole left in your heart…
*******! There is a senior yoga class at the YMCA.
Your every breath is laced with worry of your offsprings in the real world.
You think back to when you were in high school and how you dreamed about being a ballet dancer.
Where has your life gone?
You can barely stand without the help of a cane because your knees are too old and creaky.
You can't even remember your old street name and your children stick you in a home because they can't manage with crazy old mom around.
They visit you once a month and eventually
you forget you even have children.
Your last couple of breaths are panicked and regretful.
You have your memories knocked back into you with the fear of a reaper.
You realized you never actually lived and you want to go back.
You dwell on every mistake and missed opportunity
You regret not following your dreams.
You want to go back.
You want to go back.
You want to go back.
You want to go back.
You want to go ba--
Liam Kleinberg Dec 2013
I was at the risk of being overweight
and everyone's so normal.
They are all so skinny.
and I'm *not
I asked my 9 year old sister to write a poem.
This is what she gave me.
Liam Kleinberg Dec 2013
i lay awake at night
and
listen to the sound the rain makes.
it spatters onto the ground with such purpose
that i can not help but feel jealousy in the pit
of my empty stomach.
the rain knows where its going and where its been.
i wander, confused at who i am and who i'm going to be.
i crave the feeling of certainty.
to know if i'm going to pull the string attached to my lips
and pull it into another forced smile another day.
i lay awake at night and
wish to be a drop of rain.
Liam Kleinberg Dec 2013
I traded the Midwest for West Coast sunsets.
I left my home.
Some people said they were so sorry that I had to uproot.
I was not.
My home was my prison.
My Hell.
My cellmate was a cold-hearted beast with claws for hands.
Who used fists to persuade me that I was not good enough.
I hung my head low.
I had glass for teeth and empty space for eyes.
The other children clawed at my differences.
Tried to tear my originality
They beat me to only clay and a brain so they could mold me into who they wanted me to be.
I let them.
I thought a life lived alone was no life at all.
Alone is who I am.

— The End —