Slum-Dog Days

 

 

I open my eyes from the darkness of my slumber and realize my days are no different. I rise to the sound of sorrow and melancholy, yet I still dream of a life more triumphant. I thought of a plan to follow the best way that I can and hoped that it would one day take me away from the treacherous land of the damned. But every chance that I get seems to crumble away like a fistful of sand. My days are lived through the blue of tears, the red of bloodshed, and the grey of the desolate homes stretched onto the unforgiving horizon. I gaze into the eyes of parents not able to afford a decent education for their children, fueling the vicious cycle that I walk in, shoes too big to fill and shoulders destroyed by the weight of poverty.  Life is hard, is it not? Is this all that I can make of myself? Shall I spend my days consumed in this dead end life until the fateful day that Death himself calls my name? I say no. Despite the turbulent days, I return to my bed and dream. All I have in my possession is this one dream that can take me away from all of this suffering, even for just the shortest second. It gives me a glimmer of life before it fades away into the darkness and I awake for yet another day.

 

Joël , Bridge Academy, 12th grade