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Dec 2014
when our metal collided,
forming a beautiful mess of flames and exchanged paint,
they dragged my unrecognizable hunk of meat,
fire still dancing on my skin,
to a blinding, sterilized building smelling of alcohol and copper
usually reserved for bullets in the chest and praying mothers.

they pricked my arms and legs and chest and everywhere in between.
never was there a moment
where cool palms were not smoothing down
the few strands of hair still attached to my scalp.

howls never failed to fill the night-
every night-
and my father joined the wolf pack
once they whispered
"we have some bad news."

their methods had failed to see my body perfect again.
but what they didn't know
is that instead of dripping recycled blood
down the tubes jammed in the holes decorating my skin,
they should have poured words
in to my running river veins.

especially since I'm entering this for a chance to win classes taught by an actual college professor about poETRY EEP I WOULD LOVE TO BE ABLE TO LEARN IN THIS CLASS.

if this poem is not worthy, then please please tell me, or tell me how to make it better, or even if I should pick a different poem all together.

this class/audition is only for high schoolers, and I'm 14 by the way.

thanks fellow poets, and have a creative day !
nichole r
Written by
nichole r
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