Teenage Hooligan: An Original Poetry Chapbook

The Simple Joys of the Child Who Holds my Memories

December 4th, 2019
16 Years Old

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Pillows, rock into comfort my sweet childlike ways.
Seem so far gone,
But the stars carry me in my dreams.
Silent Nights like these hold me, and
My mother's arms swallow me,
Filling anxiety's black hole
With blazing spheres of gas and fire and energy.

I see myself as a child,
Poker straight, bleach blonde hair
I'm fighting with my brother over who does what chores.
If I dust I get two stickers, I get candy.
Sure, now my least favorite chore
But then the temptation from candy.
I couldn't resist the chance
To yell at my brother.

Now, even money can't buy me from my bed.
Very few things, in fact, get me out of my own head.
In my dreams, in this dream,
I realize that my joys are no longer
As easy to hold in the large palm of my hand
As it was when I could barely hold all the gumballs I won.

The idea of candy makes me, Self-conscious.
The idea of a dinner out, eating my favorite steak makes me nauseous
from the thought of ...food.
Before I would rejoice as straight A's would get me sweet treats.
Doing my 24's would get me candy.
I no longer know my time tables, and I rejoice at getting a C.

I miss the simple joys of my childhood.
I wish I could get so excited from a lollipop,
I wish my father wished me goodnight like he used to,
I wish I could wait for my mother to return from work
Sitting on the steps and receive the same amount of love as I used to.
I wish I could go back to when my stepfather was merely someone who owned a dog,
Not someone I have nightmares about,
Someone who rarely brings me joy.

The child sitting in front of me,
Clear skinned, bright-eyed, whimpily yelling at my brother,
Holds my joys.

I want them back,
But I'd never want her to feel the way I do now.

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