Gossip | Teen Ink


December 4, 2015

I am a name

that stretches like long, tender limbs

over wagging tongues and dry lips

that pull shapes and contort

into mutillated syllables and sounds

and travels over the snow-capped mountains

to settle in the stale city of the valley below.

The author's comments:

In small towns I used to hear about all kinds of people and all the "scandalous" things they did. But I didn't know these people. They were just names to me. How could I know if that person, that name, was really all the things they were being made out to be? When people talk about you and saw awful things- it twists the image of people have of you until it's almost unrecognizable.

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