Thoughts Of The Attacks In Paris.
A poem or something I wrote, inspired by an article this morning about one of the survivors of the massacre at the Bataclan theater in Paris.
MIDNIGHT IN PARIS
I’ve never seen a man walk so slow as he moves along the street
His eyes stare in the distance, focus on nothing
Not registering the flashing lights, the mournful cries
Or the chaos that surrounds him
He is free
The man he couldn’t tell you
All the thoughts that are screaming in his mind
Of all the things he left behind
The chaos in his head, the wounded and the dead
But he is free
His mind is full of all the things he wants to know
All the places in the world he wants to go
The people left behind at the show
Who are never going to do or know a damned thing in life
All because they weren’t sitting in the front row
But Oh
He is free
There’s an interesting thing about life
You’re here you’re here you’re here then one day you’re gone
Sometimes you know when and how, but here’s the rub
This man’s life came down to a ticket stub
But the girl behind him?
He’ll have to live with it for the rest of his days…..
But he is free.
Yeah…. He is free.
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