izz_midnight

Technically, I’m an immigrant;  

I wasn't born here. 

Technically, I’m too young, 

just shy of a year. 

Technically, I’m inexperienced, 

barely know the rudiments. 

I’m put in a box

Here I’ll stay, as from the edge

I was pushed away

I sit in the corner, listening to the conversation,

started like it was just breathing to them,

I want that, but my heart doesn’t yearn as much,

or maybe it yearns infinitely more.

I sit in the corner, cradling a book, 

or laptop, or phone, or nothing at all,

I sit in the corner listening to the hum of chatter,

I focus on different voices,

I don’t care,

I’m failing all my classes, my life

I have tasks to do,

two of them, three, four, I’m buried

The weight is crushing me,

The pristine white sheet burns into my eyes,

blank, like the thoughts in my head,

It’s daunting, mocking, empty.

I want to be able to do something, anything,