Raw Edges

Hoodie soaked through, mud slapping boots,

a fight ended in silence louder than shouts.

The cold rain sticks to skin like shame,

and I’m left wondering where the pieces broke,

which part is me and which part is lost.

The streetlamp flickers like my shaky breath,

wet sneakers squish with every step,

a rhythm I can’t shake, a beat I don’t know.

Friends’ words cut sharper than the drizzle,

but I bite down and swallow the silence.

Being a teen isn’t some legend told later,

it’s muddy nights and empty talks,

a heart raw enough to bleed from nothing,

trying to find a place that doesn’t want you,

but still standing, somehow, cold and stubborn.