Dark blossom

She was young, very young and extremly beautifull. She knew it, she knew that when she walks by boys, she never leaves them indifferent. And she can’t help herself but love it, this attention she gets, those stares and those head turns. 

I listen to her stories, with a very light ear, it entertains me sometimes and it aches me other times. Simply because i fear for her, that one day she will regret…that one day she will realizes that nobody helped her…and i also fear for myself, that one day I will regret not helping her at first place when it would have been too late.

As I saw her putting that thing between her lips, grabing it so tightly as it was her last chance to a better life, as the smoke approached my nostrils, I couldn’t help but feel helpless, bad and oddly dirty in my own skin. If I could delete this scene from my head, if I could undo this moment, I saw her dying in front on me, and I smiled to her face, I heard her drowning, and I decided to keep my mouth shut…she was screaming for help, in front of me, only in other words, and I was helpless, I was unreacheable, I was quite. I should’ve done anything, I chose to do nothing and watch her burn little by little as the smoke fill up the place.

I am looking at her as if I am looking at my own reflexion few years ago, true I’ve never tried to smoke but I had a different kind of addiction, my cigarette was way further than that. And it got to me, Did the upcoming generation change while I was asleep or did i just simply grow up ? She is just a victim among thousands, who should we blame ? Oblivion parents ? or shallow society ?