Untitled This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By
foolish fool am i to think of sorrow
if born never i was to be how fun
yes a fool to disregard tomorrow
in bright metallic furture's looming sun

while sandbox freedom evades my attempts
i slide complacently toward disgust
in acquiescence i have lost my sense
worlds made for me and i am made of dust

hours waking a painful waste of time
i trudge through winter wearing not a hat
my being a cosmological crime
mysterious the origin of that

it's not as bad as it may to you seem
with sunday comes the privilege to dream



This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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