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I see problems down the line Darkness steals my sight While I'm looking for a sign I can't see without any light It's humid here And the windows are cracked I'm eating but I'm starving with fear A smile on her face but emotion is lacked I'm feeling the room with my mind Listening to the songs from their creaking radio And hoping for some hidden existential secret to find As over and over in my mind turns this scenario I'm pale and freckled and my hair is long They're dark and their voices hum melodies sweeter than my supper It's a long and simple song Almost describing the state of mind after taking an upper The men seem happy The women seem lonely It is fall and the woods grow sappy It is dark and here I am young and only They're here because they don't have any money I'm here because I don't have any friends They treat me lovingly, like I am their communal child, calling me honey They tell me no worries things change and to an end come trends My blue pleated skirt is saturated with the scent of soul food And my mind carries the only bit of them that leaves the kitchen My white button up hides the good And my ears hold in the things told to the only one who'd listen
0
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
Eating in the Kitchen
I see problems down the line Darkness steals my sight While I'm looking for a sign I can't see without any light It's humid here And the windows are cracked I'm eating but I'm starving with fear A smile on her face but emotion is lacked I'm feeling the room with my mind Listening to the songs from their creaking radio And hoping for some hidden existential secret to find As over and over in my mind turns this scenario I'm pale and freckled and my hair is long They're dark and their voices hum melodies sweeter than my supper It's a long and simple song Almost describing the state of mind after taking an upper The men seem happy The women seem lonely It is fall and the woods grow sappy It is dark and here I am young and only They're here because they don't have any money I'm here because I don't have any friends They treat me lovingly, like I am their communal child, calling me honey They tell me no worries things change and to an end come trends My blue pleated skirt is saturated with the scent of soul food And my mind carries the only bit of them that leaves the kitchen My white button up hides the good And my ears hold in the things told to the only one who'd listen
Dedicated to Tommy, my elementary school cook.
#time#food#soul#young#school#child#care#worries#frienship#unlikely
mof
Written by
mof
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
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