7

A Powers
Once again, I am empty,
Stuffed in my closet, locked inside.
Moth-eaten memories stare at me,
Challenging me to try and hide.
I am small again. I am seven.
I am curled up in the dark,
Waiting to be released again,
Searching my chest for a heart.
I am overlooked, though I understand.
No one misses my footprints.
They are kicked over in the sand,
No proof that I ever went.
Once again, my tears are silent.
Once again, they flow like wine.
I am seven once more,
My closed closet door...

And there's no growing up this time.

Published by A Powers

FIND WHAT YOU WANT ON MY ORGANIZED WEBSITE http://awriterpowers.yolasite.com/ A. Powers is an English major and longtime freelance writer. She enjoys sharing her experiences with crafts, films and other...  View profile

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