Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Fever This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Inside my stomach,
A tribe of small men
Push small boulders
Against the red side
Of my skin.

It isn't their fault,
Never was.

We all have to
Squeeze our bullets out
Somehow.

The bulls-eye knows.
So does the trigger.

It pulls at them both,
Around midnight,

When the light
Has nowhere to go,
Except
Inside
The moon.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback