This is an angst-y little poem... but I'm entitled a few of them, I think... I AM a teenager.....
BLEAK IS A GOOD WORD
deceivingly brilliant
with its seemingly simple construction
yet truly endless complexities
It seems to me
that it tells of the color of
A DARK, DANK, MURKY, GAPING HOLE
such a hole from which one
CAN SEE NO ESCAPE
no way out
no rope nor
ladder of hope
It speaks to me
of watching happiness rush past your cheek
past your life
How can you grab hold of it
stop it
with your face
buried in your hands?
my hands ache
my arms are sore
my face burns
with the longing to feel
SWEET, HEALING TEARS
But my eyes will not give
BLEAK
what vivid connotations
are hid in these
FIVE LITTLE LETTERS
such apt pictures...
IT'S A GOOD WORD
~ JB
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