by James McDuffie

Tom Wingfield
Laura, why did I leave?
Why was it that I tried to forget,
When truly I could never?

I have missed you so, Laura,
And now my grave lies among strangers,
When it should be next to yours.

But I was restless,
I had to get out,
Had to escape my imaginary Hell.

But Laura, my life became Hell itself,
I could never forget,
How I shattered a delicate glass figurine.

That figurine was you Laura,
Broken into a million pieces,
With the glass cutting deeper with each step.

I walked over the remains of my life,
But there was nothing there,
It was empty, just like me.


Mr. Winfield
It is such a big world,
With so many things worthy of doing.
How could I see all of lives splendors,
Tied to a household?

So I took to the road,
And never did I come back or regret,
For surely they could be happy without me,
A restless man.

Sometimes I wonder how they grew,
I wonder what they came to be with their lives,
Why, they probably went on to live the high life,
Especially without me.

But what does it matter?
I made the decision that I thought right,
And lived to see all that I possibly could,
For it is such a big world.


Fluffy, Trixie and Brutus
We saw him every night,
Always walking through the alley,
To go to a place,
Where people were lit up on the wall.

We saw his restlessness,
He was always in a hurry,
Had a funny look in his eyes,
Like he wanted to die.

We once saw his sister,
She was quite a good looking human,
Except she had a peculiar walk,
Like something was attached.

We saw her shyness,
She did not move with assurance,
But as one scared of reality,
Afraid to escape her own world.

They were such interesting people to see,
We were sad to see the man go away,
And not long after that the girl and her mother too.
What became of them we never learned,
For The Evil Man With the Net captured us,
And when no one wanted us for their home,
We were put into eternal sleep.


Lisa
My vision was always fixed,
I saw only their living room.

Everyday I saw their struggles,
How Tom always argued with Amanda,
How Laura always was distracted,
How Amanda tried her hardest,
To do her best for her children.

My vision only changed when polished,
By the delicate hands of Laura.

These were the times Laura enjoyed,
She was doing something she loved,
Not something she despised,
Like the typewriter that was to be her future.

I did not see much of Tom,
He always went somewhere,
Something called a movie.

I saw all this till the day I was dropped,
And my horn broke off,
Ending my life.


Jake Halebrooks
Every night I took his ticket,
Hardly a night he did miss,
Watching the movies of his life.
We never ever spoke,
Had not reason to,
For I was just a ticket collector.
The one night he did not come,
Surely tomorrow night I thought,
But that time never came for him.
And so I went on with my life,
For there are many tickets to collect,
And so little time!

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