It's dark when I walk home. It's the depressing side of winter. I don't mind the cold, in fact I like it. But the early darkness...
I saw two feral kids bash another as I walked up Bourke Street. The other two walked off screaming Fucking Dog, while the recipient walked towards me crying with blood dripping from her nose.
I thought, How sad. How much easier would it be to be nice to each other. They are limited, I guess. Limited by bad parents and a crap upbringing, I assume. I wanted to ask the bashed kid if she was all right, but I assumed the answer would have been no.
It sent a chill up my spine and sadness flowing through my soul.
The sky was black, the street lights were on.
I kept walking.
No comments:
Post a Comment