elise.writer

Autumn
I sidled onto the bland schoolbus where few spoke and few filled the gum-riddled seats
Which offered plenty of time to ponder my sorrows and be swept away in the gales of what seemed would never be tomorrow

every venomous lie you utter in a
sleek roll of hisses in your
only tongue of cruelty
so raw and putrid locking
my rage with a rusty key around
my truths whose tingles
become screams of freedom
muffled under my wrinkled lids

O, Time!

The teenager that everyone wants to be is not trendy.
They don't try to be cool, they don't try to fit in.

Upon picture frames
A film of dust relentless
Smiles lost in time

Stitches weave the bond
Of the moon and the fabric
Clumsy old frayed shirt

Each petal has a
Fate you could call it in which
They fall or they rise