At the bottom of the ocean
In a city on a hill
Caught in the throws of any cliche
But it better be extreme.

They left you
Wailing and afraid
I still hear your screeching voice
In the middle of the night
Or in the dawn of morning.
Is she yelling out of pain
Or out of excitement and delight that it's over?

I can't get it out of my head.
A young kid, standing in a field
Abandoned and unveiled for all the world to see.
A preteen, climbing a mountain
Built out of quicksand and depression.
An adolescent, tripping and stumbling
And not just because of the substances
That impair her fading judgment.
Yet, she's not knocked down.
She still believes in love.
Why?

Sick and jaded you
And unassuming me
Meet at some crossroads
Or maybe it's just a street.
The similarities are awe-inspiring.

Really, the poem has no reason
It makes no sense
Just as life should be.
And I love it that way.
But so many people are so serious
We have looked the other way
And decided that our existence is nothing special
But in reality, it is beautiful
Beautiful and forgotten.