A boy.
It had to be a boy.
People tell me all the time,
Love is a lie.
I don't know anymore.
It's been a month since
my color Was tinted red.
I've been a fluctuating mess
Ever since he came to my life.
My glow is brighter
I'm a glowstick still,
I'm a glowstick again.
My dimming color is brightening
Once again.
The color often changes,
I'm not one solid feeling.
But for once I can say
My glow is not dimming.
YOU ARE READING
We are all just glow sticks
PoetryI have no idea how many parts to this story there will be. This is simply a series of metaphors poems about how we are all just glow sticks. It makes more sense once to read it.
