The laughter of three little girls replays in my head,
I remember them dreaming, of what would lie ahead.
A journey of sisterhood, to mold their love for each other.
But unfortunately, time ruled on
And from each other, they had all withdrawn.
Vexation, displeasure, and envy possessed their brains,
Making each of them equally insane.
Forcing them to stab each other’s souls.
Just to reach their life long goals.
They killed whatever hope I had for mankind,
And made me realize, that kids are just temporarily blind;
From their very own reflection upon the mirror.
Drastically changing once their inner monster sees clearer.
The laughter of three little girls replays in my head,
Whose voice are like knives, that have made me bled.
About the Creator
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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