Lulu_D

your features don’t contort when you cry.

tears skate down your face until they get caught

on the side of your nose 

or  the tip of your chin

I am eleven years old. I think freedom isn't what they say it is. 

I live in the land of the free. I am free 

in most ways. 

I can be a black belt. 

I can be a published poet. 

I wake up in a world that’s always moving, 

a second away from breaking. 
I scroll through the noise, 

and I wonder what happens when the screen goes dark. 

Winter: 

As frosty winds whisper, wrapping us in fear,

In winter's grasp, we gather near.

Underneath the snow-cloaked rooftops

We find warmth in each other.

I hate you,

I hate the way you make me feel,

and the way you talk to me.

I hate how you look at me,

like no one else is in the room.

I hate how when I sit next to you,

1. Smile. Teachers like kids who smile, especially during classes when mind-numbingly boring concepts itch their way into your brain and eat away the inside. Yes, you don't like school. No, you can't say that. Smile, smile, smile.