Reid@YWP

Siren’s yell pounds on my brain,

graffiti paints the walls in the letters unknown,

I feel so small beneath the metal mountains above,

the honking brings fear into my peaceful existence,

Every July 4th, I wonder why we do this. Why we stand on the sides of the streets, watching little children hold their arms out for candy, gazing at the police cars and fire trucks rolling by in tandem.

Fear is such a funny thing, which looks at you with no humor in its gaze
  and never blinks wide eyes, and is thin and crippled and seething, and has tears glinting off its cheeks, and is
    small and alone

these shoes feel like wings. 

i am 

f    l    y    i    n    g 

across the newly grooved pavement, balancing