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The Warehouse
Graffiti covers the walls with bright bursts of color
Pinks, purples, blues, and greens
The light filters in from the broken rafters
Reflected in the puddles of water
That soaked through the rotting roof of this hidden world
The ground was damp to the touch, but that didn’t stop me.
I look around me at the obscene words and artistic curves and slopes of the letters
Some think it’s vandalism
But you can find beauty in everything.
I imagine people climbing in here, seeing the cracked and decaying walls
Deciding to make the place beautiful,
Through brushes and strokes of paint
Leaving their mark in color.
I imagine people coming here to hide from the world
Full of anger and hurt and loss.
Taking it out on these defenseless walls
Which have no one to protect them.
I imagine people coming here with friends
Discovering this hidden gem
Alone, forgotten, abandoned
Thinking that for a while, they were the only people in the whole entire world
I imagine a nobody
Someone with no one
No one to explore with
Hiding from the world, convinced no one will find them here.
Coming to their true home
The place they feel most welcomed in
The rusty, squeaky doors,
Embrace them with open arms
Alone, they stay,
Smelling the stale air,
Hearing the creaks of the roof
After a while, it becomes comforting.
Familiar.
Their own.
How would I know?
I don’t. I can only imagine.
So that’s what I do.
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The idea for this piece came to me in the middle of a random day, and I immediately decided to put it into poem form. It's about this old, abandoned, warehouse, that the narrator discovers, and the history that it could have.