Heavy drops of salty tears, staining raw flesh
as a gentle breeze ran across goosebump-sprinkled skin.
Echoes of silence played as a small light shone on my head,
inside a home that hugged me to its chest
A foot placed on a damp board, wondering where I will go
A white van designated for bad children,
a caring homeless with soup to share.
Only I didn’t want soup
I didn’t want to be engulfed by darkness only to lead me to death
No longer did I want my cold foot upon damp wood,
as I shut a heavy door leading to an familiar but unknown world,
the soft hums of the house never ceasing
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.