Fainting Goat

It’s that feeling

Of awkwardness

Of excitement

Of twenty million things on the tip of your tongue

Of so many words that will never be said.

My name is Amelia.  

I am 17 years old 

And I am afraid for my future. 

I am tired of old men 

Deciding how I will live,  

Determining the world in which 

She's finally ahead in the presidential race. The way my hope lifted when I heard that news. And the disbelief on my face? How, after ten months? I was sure I was going to be screaming from my porch on election day, "Why, why?

to tell a story 

                    is to give life — 

I never thought I'd be 16

nor thought the grass would still be green.

At 5 I met my oldest friends

who I still talk to now and then.

At 6 and 7, all through 10

Nostalgic blurs remain of them.