abyss of her soul
For she is who she does not want to be
and they want what she is but not who they are
staring into a reflection of her own cruelty,
she wonders: if there is no home, can she really be lost?
Resounding in the dark is a conspiracy of her shattered soul
She does not want to be:
lost and glaring at the words of imperfection painted across that chocolate brown face
seen through those twinkling, tearful eyes
heard in the cloud of her frosty whisper
Alone in her heart, empty in her mind
Despair dripping from the sky
What is left for the lonely girl
When the monsoon subsides will she abide to her conspiracy theory of the mind?
Not yet, we see, as the mist still falls,
for her boots still slap the ground
walking to a place that has yet to be found
LEILA MOTTLEY is thirteen years old and attends Oakland School for the Arts in California. She is an aspiring writer, trying to share her opinions and stories through literature.