This is my 2nd rewrite of this poem and I'm still not happy with it. I like the idea, but something about it isn't clicking for me. I guess I'll have to keep working. Feedback is appreciated!

—

COLD OPEN

FADE IN.

the courtyard, from afar.

a crooked plane of concrete tucked into the hollowed cup

of a mountain’s outstretched hands

splattered with squares of light

from nearby classrooms.

the doors don’t open from

the outside ever since

they shot up that synagogue

in pittsburgh.

WIDE SHOT.

our protagonist tucks herself deeper into her sweatshirt

as the burnt trees on the hillside sway like drunken teenagers.

among the gathered half-group

she is by far the least interesting character

and yet the camera lingers on the scuff of her

faded converse on the pavement.

over her shoulder,

her friends linger, feet dragging,

and their breaths make clouds of smoke/steam in the air.

COME BACK, says the cosmic clock,

your plagiarized biblical poetry

awaits. 

I finally got around to writing one of these.

it hurts

my world only stretches so far, it seems,

hardly beyond new england

and even then, centered mostly

in my house: and in the same places i

always go.

solid walls, a forcefield, keep me in and only expand

a miniscule distance--

(is this my own fault, though?)

trapped inside a building of my own life and

going out of the house once every couple weeks and

schoolwork/family and/no other people/usually/just every single day the same/

the words on screens that keep me company when no one else can/

seeing other people who get to do things and go places/

not ever going to school/work eat sleep/

wishing i was like other people/

but trapped trapped trapped in:

inside and in my head

-

Homeschooling sucks sometimes. :l 

life issues part 1

you could drown in this feeling,

you think,

sink into a hazy world of

crystallized tears and layers of

hair to hide your face:

never realizing the sun is there and

knowing it'll never be okay,

ever,

as long as your bedroom floor is awash

with salt water

and you carry this miserable

feeling with you wherever you go:

(just in the house) (small steps)

you hug yourself, because there's no 

one else to do it, and wish--and wish--

and if wishes were tears you

couldn't be more saturated, you think 

-

life issues part 2

i could drown in this feeling, i think,

watching you from across the room

every time i see you:

you look so perfect, seem so perfect, and yet

i don't know who you are, really;

but i could spend my life just

watching you from the deep shadows

curling my fingers through my hair and

watching 

-

I might be revising the second poem. I feel like I want to change it.... 

I don't know what's wrong...

Broken Inside~

Am I lost?

I am wounded

But this brokenness I bleed

Could it be from inside me?

Or is it just my eyes playing tricks?

No, this brokenness I see

It may be from the hurt in me

That I need to patch up but can't.

They say I need to work more hard

Maybe practice my grammar

But this broken thing I be

Is what I'm made to flee

To find out my true self... 

Or is this

Al L

I

A m

T hI s  Sha tTereD mEs S oF a B EiNg

? 

Top to you, my good thread!

A Limerick~

Looks Like you Tripped

You always had to have it all

the seas, trees, waterfalls

You met your demise

to someone you depise

and now to their feet you crawl. 

Here’s a thing

~ 

Im sorry.

I’m sorry I can’t explain

The pain

In my mind.

I’m sorry I get you so…

Frustrated.

Sometimes it’s ok if you’re just here

To listen.

I’m sorry we can’t be closer.

I tend to push away everyone I

Care about.

The demons took over my mind.

I can’t talk to you,

Like we used to.

I’m sorry.

Remember when we first met,

At some stupid

Summer camp

Back in middle school.

How we were the only girls with

Ten other boys.

I remember.

I remember how it took me awhile to get

The courage to talk

To you.

How we were both so

So shy.

Look at us now.

I’m sorry I don’t call you in the

Middle of the night.

When I

Think twice about life.

I’m sorry I don’t call anyone.

You say I have to

Help myself

Before

I help anyone else.

I guess that includes you.

I’m sorry I can never tell you

I love you

To your face.

Every time I hear it

I hear I love you

I think

We’re only doing this cause we love you

I think of the pain rolling down

My cheeks

And I’m sorry

That I can’t tell you

I love you