This is kind of like a three part story. So the next few parts will be about the same situation, okay?
(Oh and #161 in Poetry!!! Thanks you so much! :)
---
He stood on the threshold
Clutching his bag in his hands
The social worker stood beside him
Hand on his shoulder,
Smiling a tooth-paste commercial
Grin.
---
And the 20-something women in the doorway
A cigarette clutched in her pale finger-tips,
Smiled at the boy.
With dark-green eyes.
---
His light-blue ones
Lit up as he grinned shyly back.
Thinking,
Maybe this is the one for me
Maybe this one will be better.
---
Poor child couldn't read people.
Poor thing didn't understand
That this would be worse.
Poor little boy couldn't see
Those demon, dark-green eyes,
as she ushered him
Indoors.
YOU ARE READING
Scratching the Surface (Poems)
PoetryUPDATE: I wrote these when I was 13 and depressed all the time. I'm 18 now, and, fortunately, life's been going well! Unfortunately, these poems are fairly cringe, so read at your own risk. Just some poems that I write when I'm in the poetic mood...
