My inner teenager slides into consciousness
In those fertile breeding grounds
Between blessed oblivion and rational dawn.
In those fertile breeding grounds
Between blessed oblivion and rational dawn.
Needling me with adolescent angst
Where self worth is stowed beneath the stairs
And memories of almost failure
Become cast iron never succeeding.
Where failure to play the game
Becomes never being chosen.
Where what may never happen
Becomes more likely than what already has.
When night time’s worst imaginings
Overshadow day’s calm reason
My inner teenager waits
And renders me helpless once more.
(C) Beth Warren 2016
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