My brain is cluttered.
Stories I’ll never finish.
Full of half formed...
what was I saying?
I am a mental garage sale.
Childhood trauma? 50 cents.
Struggles with sense of self? One dollar.
Worries lined up like old shoes? Take them, they’re yours.
Cue cards
from my brain-to-mouth teleprompter
litter the floor.
They say,
“What?”
“Huh?”
“One more time?”
“I was thinking about something else.”
"Wait I didn't hear you."
"Oh, I get it now"
"Sorry, my head was somewhere else"
Somewhere a broken music box
is playing two lines of a song
over and over.
“Planet Earth is blue
and there’s nothing I can do”
About the Creator
Hannah Lorrelle
I am a writer who is still trying to find her way in this great wide world. I strive to write stories that touch people's lives in some small way.
Keep reading
More stories from Hannah Lorrelle and writers in Poets and other communities.
Worked at a haunted elementary school
I worked as a custodian at an elementary school for about a year. My dad, who had previously worked there, used to tell me stories about the place being haunted. He would come home and excitedly recount the ghost's latest antics, eager to see what it would do next. I always thought he was just being his usual goofy self, spinning interesting tales that may or may not have been true. I had never personally encountered a ghost before or believed they were real, but that all changed during my time at the school.
By spooky sessiona day ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.