Bad poetry I wrote as a teenager, Volume XXIII
A little known fact about me and Roman numerals. I have to look them up every time I post one of these. I'm not sure why, but my brain has never been able to remember how they work.
Anyway, I've been kinda MIA lately. Late summer lethargy, being all goofy happy about the new boy, the boredom of unemployment – all factors leading to me just not having much to say. But! It feels like fall now, and fall means back to school, and back to school means I'm all revved up to be productive and crap.
In honor of that back-to-school feeling, a poem I penned one afternoon in 1989 while not paying attention in Ms. Smith's English class. It's bad, yes. But the fact that I wrote this at 14 is just downright ridiculous. Ah, the young poet and her faux maturity.
I have seen a shadow of a man
I've seen it many times
I have followed with such determination
begging darkness not to steal his image
and when it comes, I search for him
beneath every streetlight
in every headlight
hallucinations on my wall
When I search too long on another
sleepless night
in my dreams, he holds me
my faceless silhouette
how I love him, my shadow of a man
See how I brought it all back together at the end? I had mad skillz, yo. Here's Volume XXII.
