Writing

Every snowflake falls from the sky,

They dance merrily in the wind, as they fly,

And I see each snowflake, and I wonder why?

Why are they so different? As they come down from sky high.

& the trees outside stand like arrows

in the winter morning, stiff & afraid.

the world is cold, and hard,

and the new february ice lays unforgiving.

Long day

past where morning sun shines and into the dark huskiness of night

fluorescent lights beating down 

then flickering off

a fanfare

a reflection

a redemption

Maryn is seventeen. 

Click

Click

Click

I push at the eraser

of my mechanical pencil.

Watching the lead peek out to say

“Hello!”

The rush of information from a single swipe

Is a current that threatens to sweep me away

Each new voice adding another issue to the many already bouncing around my head.