By: Michaela Wuycheck
Xavier College Prep, Phoenix, Arizona
When you feel like you’re the one
That did the killing,
That held the knife and thrust the dagger,
That noosed the chord and threw the line,
And you did nothing more than
Turn an eye towards the horizon.
When you feel like you’re responsible
For silent tears shed in the night,
And secret glances at the clock
Because you’ve put a timer on the company
By doing nothing more than
Turning an eye towards the horizon.
You know you need this.
You think you want this.
But all you feel is guilt.
Somehow, you’re no longer broken, but
Responsible for breaking.
They don’t see you crumbling,
But see your blistered fingers
Pull the plaster from the wall.
You are the instigator.
You are the restless.
You left solidarity to find the hoax of singularity.
And your family—
They are the abandoned.
They are the comfortable,
They don’t see the horizon line.
You know they’ll support you, and want what’s best, but until that moment you’ll stand alone.
Fighting tears, faking smiles, and embracing the chilled embrace
Of a lying wind that whispers the secrets
Of a timer
Ticking the end.