I am a teenage wasteland
a room packed to the brim with conflicting emotions
and mixed signals
Each of my thoughts contradict the next
and the last
and I own drawers in dressers
dedicated to broken hearts
The soles of my shoes are worn down
with running through past conversations
and visiting old promises
My clothes are strewn with angry bullet holes
left by words taken far too seriously
and my shoulders often ache
with the pressure to be perfect
I am a teenage wasteland
and my body is tired
with over dramatizations
and unspoken worries
the emotion of love comes far too easily for me
and leaves
all too quickly
-h.w.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
I am a teenage wasteland
a room packed to the brim with conflicting emotions
and mixed signals
Each of my thoughts contradict the next
and the last
and I own drawers in dressers
dedicated to broken hearts
The soles of my shoes are worn down
with running through past conversations
and visiting old promises
My clothes are strewn with angry bullet holes
left by words taken far too seriously
and my shoulders often ache
with the pressure to be perfect
I am a teenage wasteland
and my body is tired
with over dramatizations
and unspoken worries
the emotion of love comes far too easily for me
and leaves
all too quickly
-h.w.
This is a spoken word poem I hope to read aloud for people some day when I get enough courage
