Pure ~ A Collection of Poetry

I See

I see

Chipped black nail polish

Tarnished necklaces

A snake, neon orange

Trying to escape it's cloth prison

I see

Thousands of tiny bubbles

Can't the people see as they walk

Everything tumbling out of their heads?

Their earbuds; a self-imposed prison

I see windowless halls

Gleaming floors, hear the

                     C L A N G

of slamming locker doors

I see everything 

And nothing

Through the dewy glass