That Special Feeling

As I watch the pendulum of my life swing back and forth, On those rusted hinges so neglectfully shown, I tend to allow myself to look the other way, inspire of the beauties beyond the rusted and marred bolts. I often find myself yelling into the mirror, Retaliating at the image of the ghost that haunts me, Hoping to replace this schizofrantic behavior, With A path to self realization. I often wonder I when im gone will they mourn for me? Will I be a slate of concrete fastened to the block with the tears of my loved ones? Will I be a memento of all the hardships that I had caused? Will I be missed, or Will I fade away as the fallen ghosts of my past? Sometimes the tears fill my eyes as I turn on that sad song. The one that well all turn to in order to vent. The one that we all click on in our heads when we want to allow our burdens to pass. The one that helps us allow the tears to vent so that we feel sub-human. Sometimes I look at the sky on a cold summer day and breath in order to feel alive. To feel the frost of my breath fill the air helps me feel something I do make a difference. I feel the cold window of my life shatter as I hurdle toward the edge, To stop atop a the edge of a roof, so I can see my life flash as I realize I accomplished nothing.