Alyssa Diane Poems

Mirrors
Alyssa Jenkins
“Acoustic.”
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Every day grows harder,
Some days I can barely drag myself out of bed,
To grab a drink of water,
The memories all replay inside my head,
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I’m from cobblestone streets and warm sweet tea,
And the memories that seem to remind me,
That most things sometimes end sweetly,
I’m from cold December evenings tucked in by a warm crackling fire,
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Cold as winter’s eve,
I stand alone, pulling my heart off of my sleeve,
The cold wind blows my hair around me,
I know immediately that I must be dreaming,
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The sounds come from all over,
The wind blows so fast,
The cries of a distant lover,
The dreams that go by and never last,
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Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who’s the prettiest of us all?
I know it’s not me,
I know it’s not she,
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Un nouveau tatouage JE vous portez-vous toujours,
gravée pour ma peau décidiez hausse des
flammes où vous vivez pour combattre un autre jour. Émergeant de cendres de votre propre disparition, resplendissant rouges à golden fire,
un teardropp pour guérir, chanson au sein de votre cri,
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I’ve been cursed with a fifteen-year-old spell,
The spell that can send any child spiraling straight to hell,
The chills that fill your body with tears and anger too,
They seem to grow familiar to me just as I knew.
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Where would I live?
If I were to be somewhere nice,
Well, I’d most certainly prefer the company of ice.
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Ring! Ring! The phone goes.
The clock strikes nine.
The business begins and forgoes.
The time begins to fly.
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