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aya-baker-1Poems
i will have entered my eighteenth year knowing that it will be my fourth year of sorrow. there is a riptide coming for me and i can see it from the pier. this poem will have so many periods in the hopes that it will be a flimsy defence against the churning obsidian mass that is coming, coming, coming. advancing like a predator. everything is different from before; there is a dewy mist that settles on my arms. oh, my poor arms, uncovered and riddled with goosebumps, not even a cardigan. tell me how i can stop this despair from getting me. did i mean to say getting to me? stop this despair, stop this- i am so tired, but there are no seats on the pier.
0
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
remains
i will have entered my eighteenth year knowing that it will be my fourth year of sorrow. there is a riptide coming for me and i can see it from the pier. this poem will have so many periods in the hopes that it will be a flimsy defence against the churning obsidian mass that is coming, coming, coming. advancing like a predator. everything is different from before; there is a dewy mist that settles on my arms. oh, my poor arms, uncovered and riddled with goosebumps, not even a cardigan. tell me how i can stop this despair from getting me. did i mean to say getting to me? stop this despair, stop this- i am so tired, but there are no seats on the pier.
aya-baker-1
Written by
aya-baker-1
Singaporean
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
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