The Hill

I sit on the top of the hill, my hands are bruised and my nails are torn from the climb, my feet have blisters and my throat is dry. On my arms, thighs and sides are knife wounds I'd given myself, just as a reminder that I was alive. They'll ask me if it was worth it, I know. But as I sit here, holding my knees under my chin, and staring out far below towards the din, I believe I am safe.

You see where I came from, there were wars and struggles, but the violence and hate was all in my mind. I saw bombs explode and fragmented body parts land all around my irises, and I almost smelled them, I almost smelled the stench of the dead curl up and comfort me, as I sat there knowing about the hill but so afraid to climb.

There was love too, but it was the ripping kind, that tore at my soul, and left me feeling boundless, uncontrolled. I gave pieces of myself listlessly, watching as others carelessly used peices of my soul trying to fix their own. Once I touched her face, and my hand fell through air, because she never was really there.

I lied there some nights, at bottom of the hill, pretending I was just the road, and let thousands of feet trample on the very essence of my being. Their feet digging into my skin, into my hair, kicking at me, and breaking bits of me. I use to stare up at the stars, and pretend I was somewhere right above there.

At the bottom of the hill, there was everything I could have wanted, but nothing I really needed. I got high, and smiled too much and drank so much I couldn't feel my own face, but the next morning I woke up, and my hands were all bruised up, because I'd been fighting with my demons again.

You see, as I sit on top of the hill now, I watch all those that were with me go by, and I want to pull them up but no one reaches their hand for a lift. Because people like the bottom of the hill, it's safer down there. There where there is no way to fail or to fall, there were life is sleazy and out of control.

And as I sit here, my insides are getting warm and my wounds begin healing slowly, I turn my face to the sky and I smile, because as I reach my hand out, I touch the sun. And I'm lifted away from it all.