Popcorn

There is a man on the corner of 87th and Amsterdam. I do not know him, and he does not know me. He wears a red tee-shirt with red sweatpants. He wears a red coat with red shoes. He wears a red ski mask on his face.

I can't shake the feeling

That I'll never be one of them

Girls with lives made of honey and laughter,

Girls with someone who looks at them

Like they're laced with something unknown and magical,

what is the meaning of it all, anywho?

is it part of some grand scheme, some astral plot

to make us whole again

some day far from now?

perhaps, on the contrary, there is nothing;

are we born simply to exist?

They didn't say your name at graduation,

there was silence when there should've been you

when we should've been screaming for you

I wish I could laugh

I wish I could stand up

In front of the class

But I can't

If I laugh

They'll say I cackled

If I stand up

I'm a towering daemon

Ready to hurt them