unpublished submission from the youth at Larkin Street Youth Services
Sometimes it's hard to listen to the rain
When its [sic] clarity isn't clear enough.
The rashes off my skin tell a person im [sic] not well enough
for a day without innocence.
Inch by inch I'm loosing my own
with every tear leaking from the corner of my eye lids.
No one seems to claim the stranger inside me
so i [sic] walk along my torn pieces.
voices keep winding through my soul
speaking love appearance but i [sic] cluster under my clothes
that makes me invisible to glance at.
I'm opposed to the volume of the crowd
that makes me want to shout out my rough edge
but no one seems to know that.
Bleeding but no fear of fighting
the tall waves from above my head
sometimes makes the freedom comes [sic] out again.