Troubled teen-ramblings
rustle in the palms of your hands.

Your anger shatters crystal:
the polished window
to the world you will never know;
forever limited
to the opaque vision
of stolen childhood dreams.

You can't understand
how my season balances
between fruit-punch parties
and beer-keg gigs,
or why I feel the need
to sling phrases of inky tar
into whitecap puffs of smoke,
and then lock them away from you.

Your invasion
peels away leaves:
secret playgrounds,
stolen kisses, innocent
trials of my teen life.

My random reflections, severed,
bleed on broken glass.