Minds are terrible things to waste, they say.
Some are unfixable,
Others amendable
Soft clumps of clay,
Mold-able
Like mahogany mud,
Twisting one way
Or the other
Like upturned, stubborn noses
Some carved, smooth,
Polished – others prickly
And hard with splinters,
Sharp thorns that dig into the flesh
Of newborn thinkers,
Corrupting them too.
Some are unfixable,
Others amendable
Soft clumps of clay,
Mold-able
Like mahogany mud,
Twisting one way
Or the other
Like upturned, stubborn noses
Some carved, smooth,
Polished – others prickly
And hard with splinters,
Sharp thorns that dig into the flesh
Of newborn thinkers,
Corrupting them too.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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