Dreams are smashed
in a dusty basement bright bulbs
shine, revealing the clots of dirt
on a carpet woven by grime.
The audacity they've to shine,
to melee with shadows, at darkness
not ever flickering.
For such hope it is sad that
shadows are more like man,
and crush the bulbs with
numb hands.
in a dusty basement bright bulbs
shine, revealing the clots of dirt
on a carpet woven by grime.
The audacity they've to shine,
to melee with shadows, at darkness
not ever flickering.
For such hope it is sad that
shadows are more like man,
and crush the bulbs with
numb hands.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
AlaskaFrost
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