I can't recall what I have done to deserve this
I sit, in my naive propensity
I count the cracks in the floorboards, and the ticks of the clock, and the tocks of the clock,
And the rocking of my heart
And the number of my things scattered about this room.
I count the tears that hit this lumpy pillow
I count the seconds that they've been gone
One, two seconds separate me from one, two boys
Two boys, one girl
You know how the story goes
The equation, it doesn't add up
Pretty girl, but also drunk girl
Nice boys, but also hormonal boys
One party too many until you tip the scale and
BOOM
There goes your dignity
Grabbed and crushed and taunted by
Boys
Who grabbed you
And filled you
With drinks, and lies
That stack higher then the bottles in this stranger's house
Who pulled you up endless flights of stairs
Then down an endless
Endless
Rabbit hole
Where there wasn't enough air, not enough people
Not enough space to stop them
Not enough clothes to protect you
Only words and whispers and "Close the door" and locks and belt buckles hitting bed posts and silent screams of a girl who
Will face the rest of her life
With a sad, sound boulder in her chest
And a truth that no one is willing to hear
**NOT BASED ON REAL EVENTS IN THE AUTHOR'S LIFE. However, very prominent in society.
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We Can Still Dance
PoetryIn this world, there are painters and writers, teachers and philosophers. Theorists and dancers. People. Complex, enigmatic, people like you and me. People with stories. This book is a collection of poems, based on events experienced by anyone an...
