the miserable life of a miserable teenager -
black ash
Look around my room, it’s all I can see. I am ash.
The messy powder that litters the places that were once clean.
I am cluttered ash.
The dust that was once a solid, valuable coping mechanism.
I am black ash.
The mess that used to be my beautiful lifeline.
Missing when I wasn’t ash, when I was a sprouted plant.
Sure, I was screaming at you to pick me and sell me.
But dammit, put me back together.
Except you can’t.
Because all that’s left of my beaming smile, is black ash.
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