spent lunchtime
tucked away from the world
being teased by year 10s
about my choice of book
and hair c u t
scared of crying out
because of fear
fear of the chains
iron fists clenching
on trembling w r i s t s
too dazed into deafness
to figure out what i want
too shocked into blindness
to figure out what the hell it is
that i l i k e
want to braid her hair
or kiss her all over?
never know, don't know how
never tell her what i feel
scared into dead s i l e n c e.
YOU ARE READING
A Little Thing Called Death
Poetryi won't explain many of these. they are for you to work out and they'll probably mean something different to everyone. (i own these poems) ((FINISHED.))
