Writing

To be young is to feel the grass growing beneath your feet

And wander through the woods aimlessly

To see the little, quiet things unnoticed by all else

And say,

I saw something beautiful today.

I sit in polished classrooms
behind gates and old brick walls,
arriving in quiet cars
that glide past the lines outside.

I think I might drown

From the weight on my shoulders

Expectations,

Hopes,

Dreams.

I want to meet them

I need to meet them

Dirt road, springtime

Air wet with snow

Evaporating,

Roads soft,

Like new petals.

Girl, brown hair

Pony tail

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,