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We’d sit on porch steps
Insecticide burning our lungs
Awkward and gangly attempting to grow into our limbs
You with freckles dusting your nose and I with a small dot on my cheek
You called it a beauty spot and I said god was too lazy to give me freckles

We were 15 and lust driven amnesiacs
Dissolving our flesh with cheap gin in your tree house
Throwing pebbles at the sky hoping to shatter it
We were an epidemic of the underdog prognosis
Playing encores to an audience of cowards

For some reason we’d always rush across rail way tracks
Metal bars quivering and our broken sneakers stumbling
We were branded in mistakes and embellished in thin silvery scars
Battle scars we’d say laughing because there was nothing else to do
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Harzlek Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2013
I am not going to insult you by saying hollow words of praise. This is quite good.
grew-up-a-screw-up Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2013  Student General Artist
Thank you very much.
Harzlek Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2013
Of course.
chocopie5 Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
dang, this is awesome. your imagery is so vivid, original, and at times playful. i like the last line especially, because while it seemed like the subject matter of the poem feels cynical and almost without hope, saying that there was nothing else to do but laugh kind of gives it a hopeful (or at least "hey, i don't care that things suck right now!") tone. well done. :)
UndertheShaydeWood Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2013
What an extremely vivid description of youth - the imagery so telling and perfect. "Attempting to grow into our limbs..." Very poignant. I guess we are always attempting to grow into something else - never static until old age and decrepitude disable our powers to change. Your reflection on youth has given me pause to reflect on all of the transitions I have experienced in life. Nicely done!
IllusiveContrast Featured By Owner Feb 21, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Love the images and emotions you put over here - cynical and blunt melancholy recalled around something like regret from childhood of urban decay and rebellion to end with acceptance and almost insanity - the two subjects have a bond aside from love due to shared struggle and experiences.

I'm honestly not as poncy as my previous statement suggests. But I do love a good poem.
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Submitted on
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