Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

I Feel.

I feel…
I feel..
I feel.

The pain that leaks out of your cold windows.
The shutters are white but all I can feel is your emptiness.
The way the sun rays shine on your carpet gives me a warm feeling.
The way you look at me digs deep inside my heart.
The way your guitar sits there looking saying something love me like you do her.
The fridge as cold as ice one day wont you just say it.
The TV crying out like me to turn me on and then off again left.
The lottery ticket is it as lucky as I am.
The chap stick laying on your bed warm under your covers again.
The roses in the vase as dead as downstairs sheets on the windows.
The sliding glass door about to shatter into millions of pieces.
The change why cant we.
The tissues leading a to a trail of dishonesty.
The vines outside crawling up the window seeing what may be inside.
The bathroom bright yellow saying hello your bigger nightmare leaving the show.
The markers uncapped and under the pressure of being dull and dry.
The magazine stack paper cutting bleeding out cant you hear me.
The car rumbles as I tumble and burn out.
The upset stomach from the butterflies you fed me.
The pizza 1 2 3 gone.

I feel my heart beat.
I feel it stop.
I feel it start all over again.
I feel it.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback