Writing

Goodbye to a bright-lit soul

Lost to the power of pain

The fate’s thread has been cut

Into the candle wick I light

I sit here, silent, staring up at the sky where the sun seemed to be seconds ago, 

a special kind of calm can be found in the sunset

I think. 

Thinking is not unusual, as thoughts, they never stop

To adults, we’re just kids with phones. To us, those phones are the only way we’re ever heard. 

You say we are ‘lazy’, ‘soft’, ‘don’t care’, ‘ungrateful’. You don’t see the hours we spend
Studying late, memorizing formulas, writing essays, solving problems,
Trying to be everything you expect us to be. 

today's air tastes like berries

and overused metaphors. the shadows run

across golden ground, and i look 

at our old stone wall like they would in farmers' days.

a boundary, a gate

the music of circus//it's deafening//but standing in the front//while people scream and sing//is definitely magical//considering that//a thousand songs about it all//are being sung//by the one//the only//one man circus//and right in front of me//a