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Bloom

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Goosebumps, naked, clarity, out of focus, barely there, barely—
breathing.
There is the faintest contour
The last traces of Faith.

And I pray
For the courage to press down.
And I have, maybe, perhaps
fallen in love
with pain.

I used to think I was strong
But I'm really just tough.

Crooked hearts
Stolen by crooked thieves
Jagged and unevenly stitched.
Smooth scars and
tough skin.

Dull ache,
quiet voice drowned out,
drowned out to sea.
Static, sleep, scapegoat, tearstained notebooks and lost keys.
No maps. Zyrtec-D. Almost, not quite.
No calculators on this quiz, kids.

There is a crowd of desperate people
affirming that, yes, I am not good enough.
I deserve this
Piece of me,
for peace of mind.
An offering to a distant God.

I just want to see
quietude
I want to see that
flowers can grow in paved roads
and I want you to see that

I'm burned out.
and I have a lot of
long sleeves.

There is scream contained within me,
but it's
barely there, barely breathing,
the faintest contour,
the last trace.

i just want
to be near
quietude




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