365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Fourteen

From the archives. Tired of being behind, but too pissed off to write anything constructive this morning.

everything still hurts.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
spent time in the trenches.
building my fences.
now it’s all knocked down.

but everybody hurts.
gotta handle my emotions.
fifty different strains.
try to rearrange my pain.
but it’s all around.

the change is real.
I like this world.
yet somehow I am still a girl.
so many strings.
sometimes the past.
can’t mean a thing.

you want the universe.
so does everyone else.
this thing called growing up.
can feel like living in hell.

the center of the earth.
we’ve all got gravity.
six degrees of separation.
a budding constellation.
in the human sky.

may the fire wash the tears away.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

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