I run on the asphalt
Face dirt-caked, tripping on stone
Raggy clothes, dirty feet
Barefoot
I feel alone
Yet I know something's there
Something in this world
I can use for comfort
I trip again
I fall
Fall down
And what I trip on
Is covered by dust
I brush it off
I stare at it
It is black
Black as the night I am trapped in
It is cold
Cold as any heart has ever turned
It is shiny
As shiny as my hair would be if it was clean
And yet
It is clear
Clear as a cloudless day
It is warm
As warm as even the coldest heart can be
It is dull
Dull as dead eyes
But no matter how
This piece of coal looks
Or feels
I find an odd comfort while I hold it
As if it is lifting my fears away
I hold this coal
Thinking
And I clench it in my anger at the world
It is too hard to break.
I toss it aside
It glows in the night
I look at it and suddenly feel remorse
I pick it up and cry
I no longer feel angry
Because everyone has something they find comfort in,
No matter how odd an item.
