April 17,2005
By: Adrieanna Coco
Dreams fade away as morning’s first rays hits my eyes, as I hide in my pillow.
Wake up, eyes flicker open, a piece of me has just died. Memories of my dream still
lingers in the creases of my pillow as I throw it across the room. I look up and remember
the very first time that I cried, and tried to bury the pain deep down inside. But somehow
the tears hang back in the cracks in the wall.
Moody was always the one word that could describe me—if you would exclude
demeaning things; but it’s not just a description; it’s me, my name.
I crash back down onto my blanket as the dust from it swirls memories in the air, creating
freshly made memories that mixes in with the old ones. Last words exchanged before my
father died, and major heartbreaks. Remember my first diary, how I would write and let
my words bleed into my blankets, which would eventually fall to the hearthrug, as I lay
tossing and turning with every breath I take. My blanket cringes up, when I fall asleep, as
p.m. haunts me.
Life is he!! on wheels if you don’t grab it by the horns. Mercy is not of the factor or
essence of it. Tears always fall constantly because I always see, riding down a forsaken
street finding the small voice of truth. But it stops at a dead end, and then the pain and
pressure is somehow gone. A light pierces through the clouds and I put my head down; I
just learned a name. It starts with a J.
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Submission Name: It starts with a J…
