You sit here wondering
Why I’m so pissed, so please
Shut up for a minute
Ready when you are
See how this all goes
I do nothing once more
Time pressed
Feeling sun-kissed
You are a waste of time in the end
And I exist to fucking haunt you
I can see clearly at the end of the day
And clearly you can hear me say
I’ll be there at the end of the day
25 minutes, pushed me away
I remember all so clearly
Didn’t want to let me in
Said I’d never give up on you
I tried so hard to rebuild your trust again
Wasn’t even that hard
Only thing that I gained from all of this
Is my better sense of awareness
Time pressed
Feeling sun-kissed
You are a waste of time in the end
And I exist to fucking haunt you
I can see clearly at the end of the day
And clearly you can hear me say
I’ll be there at the end of the day
25 minutes, pushed me away
I remember all so clearly
Didn’t want to let me in
Said I’d never give up on you
I can see clearly at the end of the day
And clearly you can hear me say
I’ll be there at the end of the day
25 minutes, pushed me away
I remember all so clearly
Didn’t want to let me in
Said I’d never give up on you
I can see clearly at the end of the day
And clearly you can hear me say
I’ll be there at the end of the day
25 minutes, pushed me away
I remember all so clearly
Didn’t want to let me in
Said I’d never give up on you
I can see clearly at the end of the day
And clearly you can hear me say
I’ll be there at the end of the day
25 minutes, pushed me away
I remember all so clearly
Didn’t want to let me in
Said I’d never give up on you
About the Creator
Amanda Leon
hey y’all, i’m a college student who writes songs & the occasional short random excerpt that i may or may not post here. new content every week, enjoy :)
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More stories from Amanda Leon and writers in Poets and other communities.
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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