Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

It Doesn't Matter

I try over and over
to get my hair up right
in the dirty, cracked mirror
it never sits the way I want
I wish it was not so knotted
I give up
my arms hurt from trying
grab my jacket
the purple one
with the red buttons
that still smells of smoke
from that night by the fire
and run
barefoot
shoes in hand
because
my hair just doesn't matter
when I see your face





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback