Harboring Stories
Location
High school was full of cuts, sluts, and drugs.
Ultimately, everyone wanted to be loved.
Searching…
Searching for an outlet to plug
Searching for meaning in thugs
Searching for a higher pain to silence the drums
The human mind needed to be lugged
Overfilled with incessant tugs
Pressuring me to lose my tongue
A pad of paper rescued my lungs
Hard to believe the basics could overpower the sums
Jotting to release me from the slums
Multiple pickups but only one dump
My journal was the only way over the bumps
Family, friends, boys—the fuss
Non-vocal at times, so secrecy was a plus
Inspiration from pain was always a must
Happiness was nonexistent so my pen was flush
Burying things deep within the lines so I hid my rut
The darkness was hidden in black on white
Things got better as I inched toward the light
The positivity is only because I write.