Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

My Therapist's Sestina

Could her queer fascination with death
Be the reason that she cries
Over people she doesn’t know. She
Thinks this homage to the unknown is her toll
To be paid in tears
Letting her be allowed to drift into darkness

In the darkness,
She is comfortable. She dreams of death
In this way, she tries to channel tears
Into grief. This is why she cries
This is her toll
To be paid so that she can stay sane. A tortured soul, be she.

After a while, she
Makes you see things her way. The darkness
Is where she believes she belongs. The toll
She paid was worth the black around her. Death
As she sees, must be worshipped. She cries
As many cry, but over little things that don’t concern her, with borrowed tears.

She did borrow her tears
From the mourners that were actually sad. She
Has no real reason to cry
When this is brought up, she retracts into her darkness
Her world with no life, only death
As if giving up on life was her toll

There is no toll
Into grief. But many pay in tears
Regardless. They believe death
Is sad, as many do, but she
Believes it is better than life. The darkness
Knows no persecution, which is why she cries

She cries
Because she is not dead, for life is the toll
But she cannot pay it. She is afraid that, if she tries, the darkness
Will laugh, which disputes what she said about it knowing no tears
Or hate, but she
Does not believe and fears giving in to death

And yet… the lilies cry. Velvet, crystalline tears
As if paying their toll, to enter the palace she
Made in the darkness: this altar to death



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback