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Home > All Poetry > Sunday, 2: 30 Am

Sunday, 2: 30 Am This piece has been published in Teen Ink's monthly print magazine.

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By Michaelene D., Derby, NY

   I cry. This raincoat won't keep me warm.

I laughed at hay today.

I shouted at the rain never to leave.

I told the mirror I couldn't play.

Today he gave me my heart and soul back.

Today she said she was doomed.

Today I dreamt in vain.

Today the cow fell on the moon.



I have a fear of pocket watches

little tiny umbrellas made of paper by

people I will never meet in Taiwan.

Smash the watches and burn the umbrellas

leave no evidence of this feeling.

Dead flowers in a vase of water, my

only companion.



Peter Pan has grown up, and I must

fall asleep.

Skeletons poke through my haze.

Cold hot chocolate offers sanity, or covers

the insanity.

Straighten the shirt and walk out there like a man

Talk softly and nobody hears.



Postcards from the true you.

I have no intention of going, so you stay too, please.

It's raining in Paris and I have no raincoat to keep me warm.

Night is falling and I can't catch the moon.

Here they come collecting dead flowers.




This piece has been published in Teen Ink's monthly print magazine.This piece has also been published in Teen Ink's monthly print magazine.

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