"What's that?"
Just another scratch.
Just another cut.
"It was the cat."
Just another excuse.
Just another lie.
"Why the long sleeves?"
Just another tear.
Just another scream.
"Why are your eyes red?"
Just another allergy.
Just another nightmare.
But it's not just another scratch,
Or another cut,
Or another excuse,
Or another lie,
Or another tear,
Or another scream,
Or another allergy,
Or another nightmare.
It's always, "Just another..."
Until it's over.
And there's never, "just another," anything.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryPoetry that's pretty much all depressing but oh whale ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. It's in no particular order, just kinda whatever page I flip my notebook open to when I'm posting.
