Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

see, please

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
There is ugliness here, the smell of burning flesh hovering over you

like vultures. But you have not seen a sunset.

You have not stopped thinking to swallow the colors it feeds you

a baby bird this time, still unaware of everything but what keeps you alive,

your eyes are closed to the world but you taste them -

the reds, soft peaches, deep spreading purple like ink.

You say the world is an ugly place

as you stare at the flattened houses,

wood splinters stuck in a tree. Hurricanes. Wars. Everything,

you insist, is despair.

But you're wrong.

You have not seen a sunset.

You have not once collapsed in the grass,

felt the wind brush your nose,

watched it run its fingers through the leaves

and realize how tender it dares to be.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback