21 in 2012

A Poem by brianna vega

so tell me where all my friends went
lying here on a bench
in some run down park
i hear you coughing here besides me
when will we give up this searching
yea
homes too hard
im dying from these routines we dance around like string tied marionettes
i cant even catch my breath
to let you know
i love you
so let me whisper it with death
so icily near
the storm clouds are coming