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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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The wind whips through my hair asI Swing under weeping trees – alone except For sparrows waltzing in the grass. Here, Beneath an opaque sky, I hear. Divorced from frigid tones and eyes That crease like blueprints tossed in bins, The subtle shifts that rive my soul, I am. Amidst the oscillation found In crowds, as groups sway toward Their corners, forming octagons From circles, I pause at the center. The limits of vertices sicken me. Why must I feel ashamed? Content, I’m forced to hide my solus self At fault for looking up – not at. When lilacs droop their heads in grief, When final strains of music cease, I long to walk with one not to A corner but through a door. To glimpse Two shades across the floor. To open Blinds into the world within. But When wind and sparrows waltz, to swing Beneath the weeping trees – alone. Abigail Rinkenberger is a seventeen-year-old writer and poet with an interest in the enigmatic and absurd. Although a U.S. citizen, she has resided in Malaysia for nearly all her life. She publishes posts on art, life, and beauty at abigailblessing.com, and has received a prize in the Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
March 2024
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