Writing

Today, I was in class, and my friend asked, If you could play any sport, what would you play? 

Orange pen

curving, looping, tracing my thoughts onto a page

fulfilling my orders

moved by my hand.

Orange pen

flying, soaring, leaping

dancing across the page

Are you aware

what you did?

For the third time?

Once again?

Do you know

how I feel?

Ignored

overlooked

how come?

How come you didn't put in my effort?

I used to love fall

nostalgia, pretty leaves

now time flies faster.

I used to have friends who visited my house

just to say hi

who biked by

without a trace of jealousy of any boys I liked

I had rice and bean soup for dinner

the rice was swirling in the broth

there was a single bean in my spoon

and just as I thought

I am the bean

the bean sunk beneath the surface.

The irregular trods of exhaustion, followed by certain ones of death. Chasing the mouth of the Styx. Trying to ignore the screams of a thousands hanging from the limbs of lamenting branches, whilst following a torch that still would not light.