He sits on the floor
Sketch book in hand
Drawing a small dusty girl,
With a small, dusty pencil.
---
These months in this house
Hadn't gone the way he'd expected.
It wasn't that bad,
But it wasn't what he'd wanted either.
---
Footsteps behind him.
He turns, surprised.
---
The women crouches down,
Her hand on his shoulder.
She smiles sweetly.
"Hey, kid.
Whacha drawing?"
He tilts his head at her
Confusion filling his cloudy-blue eyes.
Why is she being so nice?
She usually just ignores him.
---
She takes his cheek,
Turns his face to look at her's.
Deep-green eyes stare into his soul.
"Hey kid, can you do me a favor?
It's really quick.
Just one little thing."
---
And he frowns for a second,
Wondering what she could want.
---
But maybe if he does what she wants,
He'll find a family in this women.
So he stands up
And lets her lead him
Into the darkness.
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...
