Sunday, 2: 30 Am | Teen Ink

Sunday, 2: 30 Am MAG

By Anonymous

   I cry. This raincoat won't keep me warm.

I laughed at hay today.

I shouted at the rain never to leave.

I told the mirror I couldn't play.

Today he gave me my heart and soul back.

Today she said she was doomed.

Today I dreamt in vain.

Today the cow fell on the moon.



I have a fear of pocket watches

little tiny umbrellas made of paper by

people I will never meet in Taiwan.

Smash the watches and burn the umbrellas

leave no evidence of this feeling.

Dead flowers in a vase of water, my

only companion.



Peter Pan has grown up, and I must

fall asleep.

Skeletons poke through my haze.

Cold hot chocolate offers sanity, or covers

the insanity.

Straighten the shirt and walk out there like a man

Talk softly and nobody hears.



Postcards from the true you.

I have no intention of going, so you stay too, please.

It's raining in Paris and I have no raincoat to keep me warm.

Night is falling and I can't catch the moon.

Here they come collecting dead flowers.





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This article has 1 comment.


on May. 31 2016 at 6:04 pm
ambivalent SILVER, West Bend, Wisconsin
7 articles 0 photos 180 comments

Favorite Quote:
everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. the worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. [sylvia plath]

i understand none of this, and i love it.