I'm Not Eighteen, Yet

October 29, 2008
By Madison Cyr, Floyds Knobs, IN

How can the swell of one hour derail my soul?
I once sat on a soft incline and felt brave
Brave to be bearing my shoulders and feeling the wind on my face
A bright poppy of irregularity
So sure
As if a growl shook the earth
My legs bow out from under me
The prick of sharp neurosis penetrates
I don’t even know what I’m afraid of
Things I once thought beautiful are now dangerous temptations
Sent to toy with my love
So all possible joy is bedded
In a coffin of the softest silk
Still a vein runs through
Pink and popping
Knocks my joints and send me whooping
Hollering like a banshee in the night
That’s what I want
To explode
To damage everything I’ve ever thought was wrong

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This article has 1 comment.

Harry said...
on Nov. 7 2008 at 12:05 am
Cool poem. It reminds me of someone famous, but I can't remember who. Peace


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