Mommy, I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm black, alone and finite.
These days I'm sure I'm missing something,
But I can't tell without your light.
Daddy, still not a thing in my name.
Pray for my future when I go.
Ink and paper still keeps me sane,
But for how long? I don't know.
Because when you're tired and seventeen
Your life feels like some sick dare.
Like you're standing on the edge of a building
In a fragile stare.
Because you know that when you leap,
Every surrounding thing will come down alongside you.
Like the world would fall apart.
And all it takes your slight breeze to.
Author's Note
Could be better but like also I like it?