Seventeen
As I watched him disappear up the stairs,
my head and my heart were both racing against the clock.
I was seventeen.
My hands and my face, both on fire.
My stomach and my head flailing around
like a lost tire. I was seventeen.
Depression and anxiety are my brain’s
worst fear. Both hit me like a tidal wave that day.
I was seventeen.
I needed to find comfort in a friend
As for my one friend, she couldn’t stand to be around me.
I was seventeen.
Begging for forgiveness isn’t an easy thing,
especially when your head and your heart both wanted to take over.
I was seventeen.
As she and he came back into my life.
I now walk on eggshells and speak quietly, and in careful sentences.
I was seventeen.
I laid on my floor, thoughts racing, heart palpitating,
but my eyes had a cold sting like on a crisp winter day.
And they were filled with tears, that when rolled down my face,
I could feel the pain in them.
I laid there seventeen.
In the style of William Stafford’s “Fifteen” poem.
Oh my gosh! I am also seventeen!
Anna, thank you for sharing your poem. I hope you submitted this as one of your poems for the competition because this is very good. I hope you continue to write after this class is over because I think you have more to say. Great piece!