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kennedy Apr 2018
what is fear?

is it the smell of smoke and ashes
with a raging fire over the hills?
it is a common misconception that
the flames take the lives of the majority
but actually, it’s the smoke that kills
yet we never make that a priority
due to the uniformity of
smoke detectors placed in our homes
to ease the apprehension

is it the sight of a car accident
over on the side of the interstate?
we know staring is a sin but
it’s as if we cannot look away
seems like the car was the
source of the flames
it’s evident that the girl will be
hospitalized until half past eight
so we stay and wait for some sort of update
but the ambulance is running late and
she can’t see straight; she’s in the hands of fate
but we take a deep breath when
ruby red and azure blue headlights
zoom past our peripheral vision
we take a deep breath
to ease the fear

is it the taste of your own blood
on your pale lips as you
lay paralyzed?
the medic was specialized in
handling events like this
but you envision the blurred profiles of
the loved ones you struggle to reminisce
and the amount of blood lost
was making you weak
not to mention the cut on your cheek that
made your skin even rosier than before.
and you, you are iron-woman
with only a little less iron in your veins
you are superwoman
breaking out of the chains that
hold you down
the hallucinations are almost over now
so the paramedic straps an oxygen mask
across your face
to ease your fear

is it the feeling of needles
poking and prodding,
heads shaking and nodding
as everyone talks about you but you?
every breath is a pain and
you could no longer feign a
contented expression
nothing but disdain remained
there was no such thing as comfort anymore
yet the anguish was something you
couldn’t even begin to ignore
so the doctors gave you a sedative
to ease your fear

is it the sound of your mother’s cries
that breaks the silence in the room
when your father begins to
wipe his own eyes?
“i know you love her,
but she won’t recover
unfortunately she’ll have to suffer”
is what the doctor muttered
underneath his breath
lord how he hated explaining death
so they all gifted you flowers
cards and compliments were showered
onto the hospital bed
but despite every effort
it was becoming more difficult to fetter
the fear that was now simply just
an aura
and everyone was looking for a
way to ease their worries
these flurries of fear could not be contained any longer

nevertheless; without fear,
there would be no such thing as bravery.
fear is a flame
kennedy Dec 2018
i don’t know why i’m still here, honestly.
i mean, my rooms not clean,
there’s a stain on my jeans
and i barely know how to work the washing machine.
i’m fifteen. i’m a teenager.
in a few years, i’ll be choosing a major
at a college i’m not completely sure i want to attend,
like upenn, columbia, yale, or brown…?
thinking about it makes me want to drown.

but only figuratively, not actually.
because nobody really means what they say anymore,
like “of course i got your text,”
or “yes! i definitely remembered your birthday was tomorrow”
or “yeah, i’m only five minutes away,”
or “i love you.”

i don’t know why i’m still here, honestly.
i mean, i’m an academic burnout.
in ballet, i didn’t have the best turnout.
i was never even a girl scout.
my mom said when in doubt, always tell the truth.
okay. sure.
i can do that, at least i thought i could.
i did, up until the point where i couldn’t tell where the truth ended and the lies began.
i said the tears in my eyes were just allergies.
i began to realize i was running out of energy.
everything i did, i did haphazardly.
looking back, i wonder if it was even reality.

low battery, my phone continues to tell me.
and honestly, i don’t know why i’m still here
because i lose everything.
i still can’t find my charger.
my classes are getting harder,
and at this point, i’m highly considering just becoming a farmer.
but i already know that’s out.
i mean, lets be honest
no amount of plants can get me the money that scholarship grants can.
maybe...maybe i should just become a doctor.
you know, perform transplants, give implants.
with all that money,
i could take a trip to france!
sometimes, i’d rather be there than here.
other times, i feel like i should just...disappear.

but it’s not even that serious,
i mean for the most part,
me being quiet is just me being mysterious.
other people might even call me delirious
due to my lack of experience in this
brand new job that
goes by the name of ‘life’.
i said it already. i’m a teenager.
i don’t even know why i’m still here.
and if i’m being honest,
i don’t think any of us do.
we were doing an assignment on new year’s resolutions and i finished early. this is the result.
kennedy Jan 2019
did you hear the one that goes
“every time i try to make a **** joke,
it always comes out a little too… forced.”
no, i haven’t
but have you heard the one about
the girl who can no longer sleep without
waking up in a cold sweat because
the room was too cold and
his hands were too cold against her
already frigid skin
have you heard the one about
the girl who has trouble
walking down the street in the dark now
it’s a nightmare for her
she quickens her pace,
clutches her purse closer to her side
like it’s her sanity
have you heard the one about
the girl who bursts into tears
at the mention of December fifteenth,
how her mind replays the events of that night
like a broken record
over and over and
oh god when will it be over
every memory comes back
without her asking for it,
without her consent because
oh, he didn’t get that from her either

these jokes are made all the time,
but no amount of humor lies within them
the truly funny thing about it all,
are the reactions from the people
we expect would have enough sense
to understand that it wasn’t her fault
to understand that she didn’t want it
that she wasn’t “asking for it”
that she didn’t deserve it.
i told my sister about December fifteenth and she said
“maybe if she hadn’t been drinking,
she could have pushed him off.
said no.”
i told my father about December fifteenth and he said
“maybe if she had just not gone to the party,
he would have never seen her in the first place.”
i told my guidance counselor about December fifteenth and she said
“look at this picture.”
she showed me a picture of the girl from my history class.
lindsay.
“look at what she was wearing,” she said.
“don’t you think that maybe… she was asking for it?”
i looked at her with pure disgust. she quickly corrected herself.
“asking for attention, i mean.”

i took a moment to look at the picture she showed me.
there she was - sweet, darling lindsay
‘never seen without a smile’ lindsay
‘always willing to help’ lindsay
‘straight a’s good grades’ lindsay
she was beautiful.
she had a beautiful smile,
a beautiful mind,
a beautiful heart.
and he took it all from her,
along with her virginity
don’t you dare tell me
that he did it because of
her outfit.
oh

— The End —