Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Bed and Breakfast

Screen doors reek of lullabies
And nightmares won't leave you alone.
You're too blind to see your own reflection
And too weak to walk back home.
You spend a week in a stranger's bed
'Cause you're too proud to see that you're really dead.
And it's just a little odd
That your hostess cannot smell the rot.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback