Apr. 3rd, 2015

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And this has been a very long week indeed and sadly, it isn't over yet. 

I wish I had more time to write this week but It's hell week and midterms and I barely have time to breathe let alone write. It should be easier now that I finished my big research paper (yay). 

Anyway the point of this was a poem. 

The Other Way Around

It’s 4:57 on a Thursday 

And I am fresh out of poetry.

I irrationally hate the month of April 

And it’s been at least two weeks 

Since I took out the trash 

Or did any laundry


I’m tired of writing about tragedy.

I’m tired of living in one.

A boy named Nathan died alone in his room today.

I don’t even remember if I met him. 

We have one mutual friend.

(on Facebook if that can even be said to count) 

He’s dead and I’m still worried about

Money and that paper I haven’t written yet.


I’m tired of death.

A teacher who died of cancer

A fluffy white dog 

who won’t ever lick my face again

A little girl I never met

A boy who is still haunting me

Five years later


I’m trying to remember the steps 

To get out of bed every morning

With a smile on my face. 

(it probably starts with

getting more than four hours of sleep)

I’m doing everything out of order

Make friends, then cry on them

Wake up, then go to bed

Not the other way around

This poem belongs to me and may not be copied or reprinted without my permission
Mercy Victoria, April 2015

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