Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Tread or Dread

Billowing blackness reverberating out my chest.

It swallows me whole and fills me up to the brim.

So hard to fight but I manage to do my best.

This melancholy ocean is difficult to swim.

I drown and my eyes go dead with obsidian.

Floating endlessly in this dead wake.

Wishing I could be in a meaningless oblivion.

Without a care of everything I put at stake.

To clean this mess I will need some white out.

As if I can still feel the smooth texture of

Those miniscule pills so white and stout.

I reminisce of loathe and love.

Welcome, your perfect little girl is here,

but she craves the day she can grip that beer.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback