Writing

Your laughter is expensive -

it comes at a cost,

one I achieved just barely last night.

If I don't try,

it comes easy.

Be funny

be cool

be liked

I want you to think I am those things

The black and white tapestry on my ceiling

paints a subtle reflection

of the personality of my bedroom,

holding the insufferable weight

of millions and millions of stars,

some bright, some dull,

Who is my hero?

My Mom?

My Dad?

That doesn't sound right 

Maybe a Mobad.

But wait-

What has he done for me?

Except cause pain and misery.

My hero is a woman and girl,

The spark started small

In a 17 year old student,

who made friends with the artist. 

She let it grow in her heart,

and then passed it on

by showing kindness to the outsider

Feeling my soft shoes 

Impacting the ground

My calves and my lungs,

Burning from effort 

But it feels so good

Because even though 

& it was the tensest last period class I've ever been in. Well, for me, at least,

and maybe only for me - when the announcement came on to secure

the school, no going outside, continue as normal,