Every morning I leave my house
I am a senior at high school
At the end of my street I wait for the bus
Across the road is a dimly lit forest
Tall pine trees towering over head
Barely visible past the forest is a small clearing
Followed by brush
In the low morning light the eyes play tricks
You may see something move
Or just think it
But the worst thing is the vultures that loom above me
They always nest there in my front yard
I guess they like it there
Waiting watching wanting
But what
Do they sense something coming?
Do they know I will mess up?
Do they know I will fall?
Or do they foreshadow my future?
They sit there perched with their wings hunched up
They sit there ready to drop down on anyone who can’t make it
They know
And I know
Life won’t last