When the time comes, you never really believe it at first. You look down, and in front of you is something empty. Perhaps mutilated, or heavily scared. Maybe just aged passed the time it was ripe. You don't want to believe it, because it couldn't possibly be true, could it?
You thought it'd never happen, because previously, this concept had never existed. You never understood the meaning until this very moment.
It won't move; it's frozen. It won't stand. It won't walk. Pupils dilated and sightless. They look at you, and through you at the same time.
It doesn't make sense, but soon the cogs in your head start turning, matching up the puzzle now that there are more pieces to add.
Everything somehow becomes more real in this moment.
YOU ARE READING
Unprofessional Poems
PoetryJust poems that were written by a teenager who does really know what she's doing. Please read. I promise they're not terrible- just unprofessional, and sometimes kind of angsty.
