Radioactive Zone

I am a radioactive zone.

Danger zone, when I'm alone

In a classroom, in a crowd

Touch and you will perish.

 

One of those kids who

Thinks too much, who

Writes words on her

Hands, ink can burn,

 

But not more than words

That is the lasting sting.

Air and water, the elements

Of my eyes on sad mornings,

 

The dawning of a new day

Pave the way for fake words

And fake love, and most of

My school is built on an illusion.

 

I remember gold stars and fields

And laughs, and bubbles, and it

Didn't change this year, it changed

Years ago, but I'm still adjusting

 

Spinning in the middle of a society

That kind of resembles the real world?

Even though I've only had milligrams

I spit out the real world. It tastes sour.

 

Am I the radioactive zone?

Or is it the world around me?

This poem is about: 
Me

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