Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Burnt Offerings

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
No place left to go.

I run through the field,

the tall grasses brushes my waist.

I run from my own demons,

and the world in it’s own trauma.

For a moment of peace,

a chance to step back.

A moment to figure out how to react,

to the push and the pull

and still you’re treated as if you are

the expendable,

the replaceable.

No more.

Enough of the disregard,

the loss of humanity

and taking that push

just to see how much

you can actually live with.

What about what you can’t

live without?

The things that make it all worth it.

Things I’ve spent too much time

trying to see how far I can

endure without.

This is it, I’m done.

I push away the drowning

senses of regret of not having done,

and guilt keeping from not

trying in the first place.

I lay down my fears

and angers in the dirt.

I ground myself in the strength of

the tree before me.

Lightning strikes.
Fire. It burns away all impurities.

All short comings.

I start anew, leaving behind

nothing but the charred, cancerous

remains of a former self.

Burnt offerings,

a sacrifice by fire

to a new beginning,

I am given.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback