Life As A Writer

Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.

someone somewhere

someone, somewhere (part 2)

(Read Part 1 HERE)

Not too far away at the park playground, someone is listening to the wind.

He is holding a flower and watching the petals fall down as he is thinking about that special someone.

He pulls the petals off another white Ox-eye daisy playing the 'She Loves Me … She Loves Me Not' game.

He wondered if he said the words in French, as if it would make any difference to the outcome at all, while he pulls each petal one by one.

He didn’t want to underestimate his luck, the daisy could possibly grow one more petal while hearing the language to the game’s French origin!

"Elle m’aime un peu … pas du tout (She loves me a little … not at all)," he sighed as he pulled the last petal from the daisy.

He realised that no matter what language you say the words in, they all mean the same thing in the end. Contrary to popular opinion, even a French accent couldn’t change the course of the universe, even if it involved 'love'.

"Does she really know how much I love her?" He said pondering as he looked into the distance.

She is sitting in her room thinking about someone else who is not sitting in the park pulling the petals off a daisy who is thinking about her.

But for some strange reason, you know that she is thinking about someone who isn’t you.

So her heart told her, "Listen, I’m about to go and I think you should know, it was not fair that you have gone after another, when you both liked each other. So I think it is fair that I should go. Because like you, I don’t think I will care, because like you, I will not be there."

someone, somewhere (part 1)

There is someone watching the clouds go by and down the road someone else is watching the time.

Not too far away, someone is telling a lie and someone else is writing a rhyme.

While others are trying to just get by, they’re trying to appreciate this life, while many will ask the question, "Why?"

Back at home there is someone near the kitchen sink looking at a knife. Alone and afraid, they’re wondering how nothing really worked out … as they start thinking about ending their own life.

"It is not fair", they all said.

They screamed, "Why did it have to be this way?"

There was nothing innocent about it. These tears have trouble going away.

Someone near your bed side table saying, "I’ll always be there."

With your eyes shut tight, you smile.

While someone else is laughing and someone across the park is dying. But, nobody really knows what is happening when they’re flying.

With a cigarette placed in-between their fingers and spellbound as they smoke their life away, they suck it in and release, "Oh what fresh air!"

It is so good, so addictive, why should any of us care?

There is a patient who is watching the birds sing near the hospital car park.

She escaped when her lungs told her, "Listen honey, I’m about to go and I think you should know, it was not fair when you smoked, so I think it is fair that I should choke." 

With cancer, that lovely fresh air, told her a silent answer …

Remember there will always be someone that loves you. They’re near your bed side table saying, "I’ll always be there."

Just know someone out there really cared; when you’re so far away in a fairytale heaven … they will never be there.

(to be continued …)