Why?
Why do these things push up against my skull?
Pound on the thick walls of my skin;
Curl themselves around my toes,
Lean back against my body,
Act like my bestest friends.
They persuade me.
They force me.
They make me move my stubbed fingers,
They swim in the motors of my brain,
They twist my imagination,
They summon the deepest, darkest secrets;
And use my body as the tool to spill them all.
My demons; their bad for me.
But great for the drama.
YOU ARE READING
The Thoughts and Poems from the Mind of a 14-Year-Old Girl
PoetryI'm just a teen dealing with life One Step After Another. So, enjoy these crappy limericks, verses, and rhymes. I hope they keep you company. One page at a time.
