Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

too many numbers

rip the throat of the night out
with the angry hiss of nostalgic lyrics
that used to kiss your teenage heart
to sleep on Sundays, woke up broken
hearted on Mondays – went to school,
played your part – remembered the
answers for the exams but forgot
locker combinations, only to grow up
to find life would be a reflection
of those numbers and more numbers,
constantly being tested and detested
but instead of opening doors
we tend to lock ourselves
out, and at night, we stay up late
we are still trying to figure it all out

backdated Post a Day poem for June 12th, 2017

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