Walking in the night. Embracing the cold. The headlights following your shadows. Your flesh completely explosed. Barely covering the needed.
Placing your hand on your face. You feel no skin nor warmth.
There's an ache inside of you. Your body reacting to the thoughts of the nights cruel intentions.
The moon being your own personal spotlight. Where they can watch and study your actions.
Another night for the monsters.
A mere bargaining chip for reality's pleasure.
Whispers of content and laughers of amusement.
Finally you're stopped. A hand reaching from behind you.
Closing your eyes, realizing it's time. Knowing to stay limp until it's over.
As silent as the dead, you let one tear slip from your eyes.
Selling your body to the night.
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You should make a poetry book of all of your poems and call it, "Lost and Wandering", or something. I'm sure that it would sell for a lot of money. No one would ever believe that it was written by a ninth grader.
ReplyDelete-Aurora
Very very suggestive topic to address. I like it. People need to address bad truths about our world. Kudos for writing a good poem about it.
ReplyDeleteMolly Annott Rinson