wasted years

She walks alone as the rain falls down around her, caressing her hair and shoulders. All her mistakes and failures seem to push down on her. The child in her is merely the last of a long line of mistakes. She looks over the city outlined in the busyness of the season. Lights twinkle and flash and people race to and from the stores with their Christmas cheer wrapped up in gold and silver. Was it life I betrayed for the shape that I’m in. It’s not hard to fail. It’s not easy to win. Did I drink too much? Could I disappear? And there’s nothing that’s left but wasted years. The golden years of her life were past and all that was left was a rusted soul, not even good enough to hold the love of a child. Tears roll down her face and mix with the rain. She raises a hand. Another bolt of lightening flares down on the city. Grasping the iron tressel, she pulls herself up on the rail. Her foot slipps and lightening rains down. A sob rises in her throat and threatens to overtake her. The rain beats down on her back, forcing her off balance. The world is black.