Smells Like Teen Spirit

Oh, wait a minute, that’s poetry – teen poetry.

Ah yes, the stench of bad adolescent angst ridden writing. You know what I’m talking about. We all have some, scrawled inside a decrepit coil-ringed notebook that is squirreled away in a dusty box sitting on the top shelf of a bedroom closet.

Here’s one of mine circa early 1980s:

Waiting for someone to come
and save me
Wondering who you are
and if you even exist beyond the fences
in my mind
Will you ever get here
and how will you know it’s me
in this terrible void.
Even when I’m with you
I feel alone…
Hold me and take me
away from here.


All right now, your turn to share.

Don’t be shy.

I know you have some.

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