I often think,
when scrimmaging
Among traffic,
that the city seems to
Swallow you.
Isn’t it strange,
how some people
Find that comforting?

Calm yourself down, child.
They spoke in gentle tones
Words suppressed, mild
Their reassurances
Sank uselessly like stones.
My fingers flicked away
Everything they claimed
To own--
Broken bones, a shriveled soul;
Who is a child
If not a fully inflated balloon,
Full to the bursting
Before scandalous wild
And shaking sorrow
Maliciously chipped away
Their countenance,
Puncturing the elastic
Until the vibrance
Lay in a thousand
Stretched pieces

That’s not what I meant,
How come erasers
don’t offer recompense?
Should’ve used a pencil, not a pen,
As I tried to make sense
of the contents of my head--
Fumbling with my hand,
Trying to use my left,
To craft an illegible land
I am bound to forget.

Blanketed by chimney sweeps
And coal dust the color
Of wilted childhood innocence,
I sat before the fireplace,
Crisscrossed, wondering
If my tears were enough
To put out the burgeoning flames
And clean the filth on my skin
Yet, I knew, only One’s blood
Could wash it away

Sometimes we forget
How many of our habits
Are in honor of someone

There was a resurgence of relief
Deep in my chest,
My body settling in my seat,
The cogs in my brain slowing--
But then I looked at the time
And saw that I was already late
For the next task
I had to complete
Do the challenges never end?
How do we strive for peace
In a society that doesn’t condone it?

I fumbled as I fell--
I waited for the ground,
And frowned
When it did not come.
I had failed so miserably
Yet, it frightened me
To know that I could
Fall still more egregiously--
A desperation seized me
To meet the bedrock
And stand on my own

Two feet.