when i go to the yard of my shattered youth,
and stare at the reflection of the things that
i was denied,
i stop to hear the whisper that grasps my soul
and turn my back on the cold, hard stare of misfortune.
these things that
i have held so close to my
are no longer there.
you have taken it away
and i hate
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.