poetry

Burnout

By Amy Thomson

Naive gasoline
soaks childhood dreams,
yearning mother’s beams
as I’m tearing at the seams.
A bright burst of light
quickly settles in the night
as I start feel the fright
that my life will not take flight.
Now, I never feel alright,
and her smile starts to wean,
cover pain,
try in vain,
just to gain
a mother’s love.
Disappointed,
dreams disjointed,
once anointed,
now dethroned.
Pick up the phone,
hesitate,
heart debates,
can’t relate,
clear my plate.
Now she knows
I’m nothing great.
Drop my classes,
join the masses.
Burnt out star
reduced to char,
missed the bar,
now sub par.
Always was
just because
I was her dolly,
act of folly.
Sold acceptance
for identity,
lost serenity,
emotional amenity.
I crave that blanket,
despite suffocation,
incessant persuasion,
Amy erasure,
at least I could face her
eyes with pride,
should have tried,
pushed aside,
failed to abide.
Far from calm,
rejected psalm,
I dropped a bomb,
I’m sorry, mom.

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poetry

“Molly, you bitch.”

By Amy Thomson

One hit,

drip drip.

Up nose,

down throat,

Burn.

Yearn.

Safety,

hasty.

Too fast,

outcast,

Too much,

my crutch:

Anna Marie,

I look to thee.

Stay with me.

Hear my plea.

“I’ll use my student ID.”

Glow sticks,

shitting bricks.

Fucking shit,

losing it.

Call Max,

attacks:

Panic,

manic.

Implode,

unfold.

Vertigo,

we couldn’t know.

Just breathe.

Adderall?

Trip, then fall.

Molly, you bitch.

Nerve glitch.

Which witch

would pitch

fucking with you

after going through

your wrath,

aftermath.

Mushroom cloud

enshroud.

Lesson learned,

This bridge has burned.

 

poetry

Mr. Sky

By Amy Thomson

Awake from his dreams,

Mr. Sky screams.

He’s never felt so alone.

Pouring buckets of tears

And electric sears,

Belting a thunderous moan.

“I miss her,” he cries,

“She’s left me” he sighs.

When will Mr. Sky learn?

She’s out for the day,

She’s gone far away,

He begs Miss Sun to return.