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Literature Text
I’m not all that great at poetry yet, asked someone for advice,
They said a lot of poems have places in ‘em, thought I’d try that out.
Kay, so, my mother’s like the neighborhood I was born in,
Smalltown suburbia where no one’s afraid to go outside at night and the stars whisper safe things, loving things,
Where everything I need is within walking distance and every neighbor is a friend I can go to if I need something.
My brother’s that national park I visited during summer vacation,
It was beautiful and life changing and felt like it opened the doors of my heart and flooded it with light
But it also felt distant and I know I’ll never go there again.
My step father….
He’s like the city I moved to during adolescence,
A place where I’d rather die than walk at night
Because I don’t trust what lurks in the streets even when they’re deserted,
He’s the city I lived in for seven years and still couldn’t learn the roads,
where my father’s car got the windows smashed in four times in two months,
The last time the radio was gone and there was the indent of a foot in the fender.
I wondered why the city hated us,
I wondered if it could tell I wasn’t from here,
I wondered if it could tell that I was scared and if it loved that about me.
My step father is the polluted sky that swallowed all the stars,
The stars that had whispered safe things and loving things.
My step father is the ambulance roaring by at four in the morning,
My step father is none of my friends being able to find me,
My step father is far, far away from home.
Every time I visit, I wonder if this is the time something will happen,
The time the things the suburban schools warned me about will happen to me.
I visit the city and wonder whether this time I’m gonna be the one with an indent of a foot in me,
The one being swallowed,
The one in the ambulance roaring by at four in the morning.
My step father is the city that fostered my depression and isolated me from my family,
The city I left one day and never missed.
They said a lot of poems have places in ‘em, thought I’d try that out.
Kay, so, my mother’s like the neighborhood I was born in,
Smalltown suburbia where no one’s afraid to go outside at night and the stars whisper safe things, loving things,
Where everything I need is within walking distance and every neighbor is a friend I can go to if I need something.
My brother’s that national park I visited during summer vacation,
It was beautiful and life changing and felt like it opened the doors of my heart and flooded it with light
But it also felt distant and I know I’ll never go there again.
My step father….
He’s like the city I moved to during adolescence,
A place where I’d rather die than walk at night
Because I don’t trust what lurks in the streets even when they’re deserted,
He’s the city I lived in for seven years and still couldn’t learn the roads,
where my father’s car got the windows smashed in four times in two months,
The last time the radio was gone and there was the indent of a foot in the fender.
I wondered why the city hated us,
I wondered if it could tell I wasn’t from here,
I wondered if it could tell that I was scared and if it loved that about me.
My step father is the polluted sky that swallowed all the stars,
The stars that had whispered safe things and loving things.
My step father is the ambulance roaring by at four in the morning,
My step father is none of my friends being able to find me,
My step father is far, far away from home.
Every time I visit, I wonder if this is the time something will happen,
The time the things the suburban schools warned me about will happen to me.
I visit the city and wonder whether this time I’m gonna be the one with an indent of a foot in me,
The one being swallowed,
The one in the ambulance roaring by at four in the morning.
My step father is the city that fostered my depression and isolated me from my family,
The city I left one day and never missed.
Literature
grow up they said
here's what it is to be an adult
you pay off your credit cards
and a day later, your hot water heater is no longer working and is leaking all over your garage
you didn't bother to research options
so when you finally realize you can get a cheaper alternative to your fancy coffee drink
you've probably 'wasted' at least $75. on coffee.
you buy things on other peoples' recommendations
and are quickly disenchanted
either with the things, the people, or just buying things in general
you stop hearing
or is it listening
and the magic settles into your bones instead of your eyes
and sparks up at new moments, the baby's laugh,
the way you
Literature
liii.
while i sit in my crumpled shirt,
naked legs and bleached underwear
i ponder about silence and solitude
along with the brotherhood they share
they were the flat lines in heart monitors,
the shooting stars that happen behind your back
the budding flowers and sleeping children
the world that happens while you sleep
and like the ticking of the clock
they bear a loneliness
that was either too loud or unnoticed
Literature
groupthink and gardens
we've grown so used to
stepping on flower buds before they can bloom because
they're a different color than everyone else's and
different doesn't fall into the category of "good" or "acceptable."
different doesn't fit here,
so we try and try again to soak stems in food colored water and
thick-coat paint on petals hoping that maybe our defects
will sprout some sense and learn to conform
and match the rest.
we took seeds from other gardens
and planted them in our own until our yards
looked the exact same as theirs and then
our flowers weren't a different color than everyone else's anymore and
that scared me.
i wanted deviation;
i had no desire
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This is amazing