Read

 

My Compass

Written by Anon

 

I can’t sit still in history class, or at my friend’s sweet 16

Because there’s something about

Hearing other people talk about other people

That stirs something up inside of me

As if my own self is withering in self neglect

The future is only as fragile as

The past is stable.

I navigate through both 

with a compass of a heart

Searching, frantic,

My own desperation scares me

Never has the promise of companionship

Seemed so compelling.