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Those Cruel Years
I bet,
you were the one they picked on
in grade school.
Pale from the cold,
Unattractive hand-me-down covering
Mottled, faded.
Barren and flat.
Bony fingers reaching.
Glasses too.
Always fogged up,
Always crying.
Loud though,
an alarm of life
after so much silence.
You had to clean up
what he left behind.
He was ruthless.
So cold.
Your skin cracked
from feeble attempts
of man holding him back.
Brushing off
what's left of him.
In the mornings,
when he sneaked in.
You screamed and glared.
It took him a few weeks
to realize
he was done.
But come puberty,
and everything blossomed.
But I leave your latter months to the romantics.
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Favorite Quote:
"Imagination overpowers knowledge" <33
Touches my sensative spot. xD
Love it