Harboring Stories

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.