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Her dreams lived in the abandoned house on the corner,
Scheduled for demolition.
They waited for dim white spots smudged against black windows
To hear their lamentations
And travel trillions of light years through space and time,
Then, trembling with exhaustion,
Wipe the sweat off their brows, and weary,
Cement them out of the imagined.

But the stars are not concerned with earthly matters,
And the earth is not troubled with our lives,
And life doesn't care about humans and our worries
About what we leave behind.
And so the abstract contemplations of her would-be successes
Stayed in her head and brain and mind.
They decomposed with her in her grave
Dead as they were when alive.

The future will forget her and history will remain oblivious,
For what is there to state?
Half-finished sentences don't get published,
And she was a great

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

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leavesThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Sept. 24, 2012 at 5:24 pm:
This is now one of my new favorites! I absolutely adore the last stanza. In summation, your poem pulled at my heart strings while managing to make me chuckle at its end. So pretty much, it may have just grasped the inhuman quality of perfection. Bravo! 
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