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