I still power through the day
like a bulldozer on display
for the world to believe
that I'll make it past New Year's Eve.

With a body that fights to survive
and with a mind that wants to die
I remember when I was five
years old and grateful for a blue sky.

Now my world is painted black
and I'm a shell of the girl I used to be
I wear a stone-filled backpack
faking being carefree.

I don't want to burden anyone
with my "small, inconvenient issues"
it's not like a shotgun
is being pressed to a small girl's head without tissues.

Chin pointed to the clouds,
her face
following the soft sunset
saddened by the disappearing daylight
as if she will loose a sense of hope
when the sun
goes down.
Pineapple and Malibu
stains the bottom of her cup
that she stole not seconds ago
from the bar on the corner.
Oh my love,
how she doesn’t care to live
doesn’t fear consequences.
Face still scrunched up with disappointment
as if I need to convince her to stay-
her thoughts flowing out of her head
into the skies above her.
She observes them,
Dark blue
Reds
Orange
Hints of purple.
Eyes sunken,
fists full of cloth
arms around her knees.
She turns to me suddenly,
breaking the flow
of her daydream.
Only 18,
hiding behind that baby face.
The only color left
in her big blue eyes
is the white of her pupils
in the moon lit
cigarette winds.
“Do you want to get out of here?”,
the words escape her mouth as she
looks for reasons to stay
checking under the table,
rustling through her bag.
But she’s tired of
knowing not which way to go.
So taking off for the night,
escaping her worries for one more day,
she sighs
and gets up,
only taking with her
the sand on her feet.

Sophia Hadeshian