October 22

Dang it all why does inspiration come at two oh three am?


I'm listening to the wind blow Grandma’s wooden wind chimes

together to the 


rhythm of mother natures clock. 


I can hear them out back so clearly because I'm (making an attempt at) sleeping with my windows open. 



I can’t.

go to sleep 


I’m tossingandturning

And cantgotosleep-ing


I don't 



but actually I do. 



even though I like the idea of falling asleep with my window open 

(like I've always wanted to)

(like the girls in my class always do)

and letting the cool breeze tickle my hairs across my face during the night, 

like the gentle hand of an ever-watchful parent, 

I can not.

can not.

because my mind is filled with all those stories from tv shows about 

those girls who get 



& lost forever 


because they leave their windows unlocked at night 

and as it turns out, those aren't just shows, that's real life all over the world and so 

who am I 


am I?

to complain?

To contemplate complaining?

about not having a cool breeze across my 

well fed face in my

cushy soft bed inside my 

safe comfortable house?

Who am I to contemplate complaining? 


I get up

I shut 

I lock 

my window. 


Because even though it might be safe and it might be okay just this once 

and the breeze would feel so good and I could finally be that girl-


I have enough


and I don't want to tempt fate and--


This social stigma has ruined a soft part of me.


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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