insignificant

teenage angst has paid off well [a . h .]

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5. the road of death

With screams on their lips,

While their stomachs do flips.

There's poetry in my ashes.

I don't care about what happened.



I felt envy over the skyscrapers.

How they get to tease our Gods

They couldn't see to save her.

So we play musical chairs with our loss.



Wires through our bodies

Pond water in balloons for eyes

We clearly weren't invited to our own pity parties

We burst, try to confide, and cry.



It's an ugly sense of beauty here

At least we get to the point

The memories strike me with a gentle spear

Can we please blow this joint?



I pass the road of death every morning.

My school bus passes the cross so fast.

I look to see something soaring.

So I don't vanish in the past.



But my eyes scream for answers

Though, they look back ahead.

They act like pain is a life enhancer.

Like we should thankful for the idea of death.



I shake my head, thinking of then.

A song escapes my mouth.

Yes, the book characters win.

Their words get loud.



You have no excuse to separate us.

No, just because you're the protagonist

doesn't make this less contagious

for my- FOR OUR- sadness



I don't know, I'm mad.

Crazy and angry in all the sense.

If people are just fads,

is my heart supposed to have dents?

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