All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Skeleton Weeds
On the first of September
I aimlessly wandered into a meadow
Nothing to do
Nowhere to be
So I started tying flower-weeds
Together into a rope
The stems were pliable
Delicate, but not so that it would break easily
By October my rope had grown a considerable amount
But I still sat there
Tying more and more flowers
Onto my flower rope
In November, the weeds
Were starting to die
And I had to scrounge
For more and more to add
My bones froze stiff
When the first storms of December came
And my only tie to the past
Was the flower chain that I held onto for
Not-so-dear-life
New year, fresh start
I thought I was cold in December
But the winds howled and shrieked
And I could do nothing
But tie and tie and tie
In February my thoughts froze before I could even think them
And I wanted nothing more than the sun to bring back
The flowers so I could add
Just one more, just one more, just one more
March rolled in like a lamb
And I thought my prayers were answered
But I looked down at my hands and realized that they were on autopilot
Tying without thought or control
I feared my brain would be next
The April showers streamed warm droplets onto my frostbitten back
And no longer was I shivering, but embracing the clouds that I had come to hate
In May, the ground took its’ cue
My flowers popped up like the weeds they were
And I had more than I knew what to do with
I regretted my wish in February
When I begged the sun to return
Because it did in June
I took off my clothes, shed my skin, and panted like a dog
But not even the sweltering rays the sun shone
Onto my peeling back and scorched arms could stop me from
Tying and tying and tying
In July I had to defend myself from the swarms of gnats that were attracted to my utterly disgusting perspiration
But eventually I let them take me
And my skin disintegrated into ash
Finally, in August, I cried out to my Maker with lips of a skeleton and chords of a mute
“Why did You send me to this beautiful, accursed prison?!”
No answer came, it never did
And I died with the flower-chain
Across my lifeless chest
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.