I am just like her—
Trapped in a sea of white.
My mind is just as frayed—
My heart just as sliced.
By the glittering blades
That contrived all her words.
The letters of her thoughts,
Locked—in all her Mirth.
Her poetry—screams of Despair,
Lie there—lonely—on the shelf,
I can see the parallels
Between that tortured girl,
And myself.
I was eight years old,
and everyone around me was dying.
I wish I was younger so then I wouldn't
understand what war was.
Now I'm twenty-six,
and everyone around me is dying
The girl with the Polaroid in her phone case
is the one I want to kiss.
The girl with the Polaroid in her phone case
doesn't even know I exist.
The girl with the headphones that mess up her bangs
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