I am an eighth grade student who used to
play with words.
They recently left me, and I'm slowly gaining back their trust. It's harder without the help of an endlessly creative mind as such is the mind of a fifth
sixth
seventh grader
who plays with words
at her own leisure

I could chastise myself for not trying hard back then, making them all
longer
bigger
better
amazing.
But then I’m only left with
butchered sacraments.
And who
wants to publish those?
So I’m retrying my words,
carefully this time and making them
longerbiggerbetteramazing
without the
youcrazygirlthat’scrapthat’sworsethan
anythingI’veeverseenjust
lookatallyourfriend’s
writingpoemsstories
nowtheyare
longer
bigger
better
amazing.
And you, are
not.