quiet on a graveled playground i crouched
chain link corners cuz they said i had to
run besides the little dicks because
if only i could learn to fit
if only i could learn to fit
though do they more than barely know
i exist beyond teased hair and sucker punches
i bathe wounded wild boy skin
in sissy moon tears
and the girls laugh too
and the teachers wonder…
but today i finally catch an eye
a deep ocean with a sandy island
where the always witch makes castles
all alone but for a lonely world
to discover in a day…
and looking up into shimmering sky
she did feel me peering softly in
and sang sweetly to the stars that danced
reflecting all she was
About the Creator
Landon Jones
Exploring existence through writing, art, and existing. Writer of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. Friend of the inner child. Interrogator of the inner sheep. I stop to smell the flowers (and talk to them too).
art @landonmakesthings
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