Reid@YWP

Little girl, little girl

Why’ve you got boy’s hair?

Why’ve you got weird sentences

spilling from your mouth

And why’ve you got the wrong words

When I was sixteen, I remember feeling nostalgic for things I hadn’t yet lost. Pure, raw adolescence.

Simple sweetness is this melody,

a single tear of destiny that betrays its maker,

Slipping down off a nose

And onto red, red clothes

that were white once.

I was running down the street when it started to rain 

So I took out my hearing aids. 

The world quieted around me. 

I kept on 

running,  

each foot fall 

For eleven years, I've been a part of the YWP community. I started when I was 11 years old and I went by my old name back then. I used to publish my work here all the time, but much of my publishing has now moved to my university.