by Lindsey Morin
To the infected girl pulling up her skirt,
To the children with old, sunken eyes,
To the parted lips waiting for something that will never come,
To the umbrella craving the rain,
To the empty picture frame,
To the boy that jumped,
To the eyes shut to reality,
To the unwanted hugs,
To the blank walls,
To the illegible graffiti,
To the broken guitar strings,
To the girl skinny dipping alone,
To the hand with nothing to hold,
To the shoulders with nothing to hold up,
To the lost mermaids,
To the inevitable end,
To you,
To me,
Welcome to the machine. *
* inspired by Pink Floyd’s Welcome to the Machine
