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Cold fingertips tucked in the palms of oversized sweatshirts

Chapped lips pressed against a mug whispering out silent prayers

To a God she doesn't believe in. 

Dry skin rough under the touch of those who claim they love her

Salty water leaving trails of comfort to flavor her morning coffee

Streaks of tears holding unspoken emotion against a forgotten girls tongue. 

A breath of air that swirls and disappears, 

Proving that you do not have to live to be alive. 

A coarse hair stuck to the corner of her mumbling mouth

Split ends prominent in the glow of the sun.

Feet worn from constant running 

Tough and scarred from the hot coals she constantly treads on. 

The smell of rubber soles long burned linger in her clothing.

Her voice comes out as high-pitched as a newborns 

Pleads the way a child's does

But she has the vocabulary of an adult. 

Her existence a definite maybe,

A sad joke, 

An oxymoron fitted to her at birth. 

She screams out nothing and is met with it in return. 

Sad eyes searching, 


Waiting for a distraction

Her life being plucked away in an endless abstraction of hope

Dictated by no one yet ruled by her alone. 

Self-destruction brought on by fake realities

And she will never wake up

Because all they see is silence. 

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Jujuforever said...
today at 4:06 pm
I find this so truly relatable to my life. I love it. You're very good at writing. You should write like this more often. Please. Thank you for being confident enough in your writing to post this lovely work of art.
ATroubledWriterThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
today at 9:15 pm
Ahh! This made my night. Seriously thank you so much for commenting! I hope that I can continue to make more works that you can enjoy! Thank you, thank you, thank you! :)
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