Wince at the Moon
I wrote this shortly after the school shootings–Columbine among them–started making the news. I don’t know what those kids were thinking, but I felt a sense of identification with the extreme emotion and mind-cloudedness that I imagined they must have been feeling. I tried to convey that in this short poem from seen the eyes of a troubled fifteen year old, and written in the words of my eighteen year old self.
Its cold and its dark
I have nothing to say
It seems to get harder with each passing day
Explosions and murder
Black crows in flight
My daily injection of bitter delight
Deeper into the corner I crawl
Harder and harder, the rain seems to fall
Never again, I think I shall see
The sparkling child that I used to be
My bruises have healed, but my vengeance is green
In two weeks, and four days, I’ll be only sixteen
This entry was posted on Saturday, September 25th, 2010 at 1:16 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.