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. 

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January 18, 2022 3:23 pm

Oh my gosh! I am also seventeen!

January 17, 2022 12:25 am

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!

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