deepundergroundpoetry.com
Old News
I visit this store often.
And every day, it seems, there are new faces.
Of those that have gone missing.
Where did the last ones go?
Or the ones before that?
This isn't a video game, the board doesn't refresh.
So what happens to those that were missing a week ago?
Were they only given a short window to be found.
And then their picture is taken down, someone new has gone missing.
And the picture will be placed on the Missing Persons board?
Every time I visit this store.
And I see the pictures of children, teens and adults.
Gone missing when they were young or many, many years ago.
"I don't think they're gonna be found."
That's what my mother says as she walks by the board.
And it breaks my heart, knowing that when we return these new faces will be gone too.
Gone from the board, from the ability to ever be found.
And new faces will be in their place.
Just like the last time.
And the time before that.
There faces will blur and fade.
Be taken down and thrown away.
Over and over again.
New Missing Persons need to be found.
And the old ones pictures and flyers will be taken down.
Only for a new rotation of photos to proceed this new batch.
Just like the last one.
And the one before that.
And I'll be here watching.
Every time I come to this store.
Watching the missing become even more missing then they were before.
And sooner or later we'll all be gone too.
And just like the missing, we'll also be old news.
And every day, it seems, there are new faces.
Of those that have gone missing.
Where did the last ones go?
Or the ones before that?
This isn't a video game, the board doesn't refresh.
So what happens to those that were missing a week ago?
Were they only given a short window to be found.
And then their picture is taken down, someone new has gone missing.
And the picture will be placed on the Missing Persons board?
Every time I visit this store.
And I see the pictures of children, teens and adults.
Gone missing when they were young or many, many years ago.
"I don't think they're gonna be found."
That's what my mother says as she walks by the board.
And it breaks my heart, knowing that when we return these new faces will be gone too.
Gone from the board, from the ability to ever be found.
And new faces will be in their place.
Just like the last time.
And the time before that.
There faces will blur and fade.
Be taken down and thrown away.
Over and over again.
New Missing Persons need to be found.
And the old ones pictures and flyers will be taken down.
Only for a new rotation of photos to proceed this new batch.
Just like the last one.
And the one before that.
And I'll be here watching.
Every time I come to this store.
Watching the missing become even more missing then they were before.
And sooner or later we'll all be gone too.
And just like the missing, we'll also be old news.
Published 8th Nov 2014
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8th Nov 2014 11:02pm
9th Nov 2014 7:03am
Thank you, it's something that's occured to me a few times and I just thought to write it down as a poem earlier today. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
- Paige Rider
- Paige Rider
