By himself he sits,
on the bleachers' steel,
He wants to run with them,
the kids all caught up,
in their game of tag;
capture the flag.
He closes his eyes,
smoke curls in his mind.
Twisting like grey snakes,
from his mother's fingers.
Asthma, inhaler,
the things she gave him,
a childhood hindered by,
lungs too weak to breathe.
"Did you think of me,
when you were sixteen?"
He asks the breeze.
"Why couldn't you quit,
before you were addicted?"
-Matt
This one was fun to write. It's about a kid who got asthma because his mother was a smoker. He's wondering what it'd be like if she hadn't. If she had quit. Instead of letting her self-destructive behavior get the best of her. Cigarettes and alcohol don't make people stronger...They just kill them faster.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment