Purpose

Sitting in the sun,
lonely and alone.
Waiting for the moment,
to finally be put to use.
I never sleep,
just sit idly by.

Here they come now,
be careful how you handle me.
Mum is smiling,
Dad is scowling.
Kids are happy,
we are ready to go.

Now I am moving,
my wheels are spinning.
I can feel the breeze,
it is cooling my parts.
Dad is giving me gas,
this is why I am here!

Words © Neil Hayes and neilhayeswrites

Burning the Past : a story

I put tulips under all the pillows, and then I set fire to the house. It was a ritual that I had often dreamt of, symbols of the love I once had for this place. But that feeling seems old now, a burnt flower is already where my heart used to be. The happy times are like a movie reel playing through my mind and I no longer feel any connection to them as real events.

Crouched down the street I watch with fascination as the fire takes hold, spreading from room to room, slowly consuming the whole place. I want to watch for as long as possible, to make sure the job is done. If I see this place reduced to ashes perhaps the ashes inside me could finally be cleared away.

A girl is walking along the street and she stops directly in front of my position. She seems to sense something is wrong, and she casts her eyes around searching for whatever her instincts have alerted her to. Why did someone have to come along? Couldn’t I just have a few moments alone to enjoy this?

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