“You’re a pretty little thing.
Don’t go around frowning so much.”
The puddles keep getting bigger and bigger
As I cross the road.
My knees are red and scabbed.
They cave into themselves like loveseat cushions
Whenever I poke them.
The spot between my eyebrows hurts,
But I can’t get it to shift up.
The rain soaks through my boots.
You can’t stop ruining my night.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
This piece won the October 2015 Teen Ink Poetry Contest.