Or so they say. Sometimes it doesn't, and you feel every numb, bloody second of life.I caught myself looking at the calendar and thinking back to 1989. An important summer, for many reasons. I graduated from the Academy but had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. It was really the starting point of a bad time wherein I had most of my illusions painfully shattered. (Rush quote, for the win.)

Anyway, bad poetry is thus called for. Isn't it always?

Northampton Calling

Twenty years ago.
I lived my life
For an illusion of expectation.
A fundamental flaw,
A majestic mistake
That sent me away
And broke me.

It broke everything, really.
It took me a year
To find my direction again.
This time, alone.

This isn't an anniversary
Or requiem.
Just a moment of recognition
And pity for a younger self.

Contempt, perhaps.