I sit and stare
he title looms.
They tell me, they shout,
“Write the title! You’ll know what to write after.”
I tell them, I ask them
if they’ve ever gotten confused
the way I am right now,
not the way they handle those numbers and letters
like old friends.
My mom with her transfers,
streaming hair in perfect unison,
not a crease out of place, and
my dad with his codes,
dead logic, impossible feats
not possible in normality.
say “Yes, yes”
I ask again, they do the same and
they’ll say “Yes, yes, now go away”
But I don’t believe them-I won’t.
I look for answers that
everyone else ignores.
I look into the shining, starry winter night and wondered.
I floated past the lonesome, bearded man and paused.
I traveled down the decrepit river barge and stared.
I meandered down the narrow country lane and tripped.
I watched the golden, setting sun and cried.
Light pierced my uncared-for thing
prison of shadow.
I stared out at those
happy people traversing the many worlds,
ignorant, oh so ignorant
of the fate that awaited them here.
The way I was trapped in mirrors, my past world,
the one ripped to shreds,
stripped me of my lies and
damaged to the core.
Of one unforgivable, deadly
I stare out my window,
Life shines in my face
Bright, joyful life, all closing
Nothing is left,
But for empty eyes and,
Floating leaves and black, empty height,
Keep me awake at night.
Where will I be, I wonder?
Where have I been, I flounder.
Far past Andromeda, Distance past orion, I see.
Lightly flitting, ghost to the stars, my reverie.
I drop in on the dancing mice,
slipping on silver ice.
I fly up to the swooping hawk,
onlookers, in fear, in shock, stare and gawk.
I stand as the world whirls,
my wishes coming true , albeit with twirls.
And I realize that this, this was never,
ever, none of this is what I whisper,
There’s nothing close, I ponder,
But it’s not what I wonder.
the glittering expanse of night
the window, the ones looking out.
And float out to the sea of ink.
And down I travel,
the might of treasure.
Never seen by eyes from humans,
Dancing through the grass,
jumping past some fish.
they’re not that different, I say,
not that difficult to understand.
Age 13, Grade 8
Hunter College High School