Manic Panic
By Marisa Crawford
Live fast
and dye your hair.
That’s what I wrote on my
Converse in 8th grade.
Maybe it was the way
the feeling pulled me
like a girl
pulling a ponytail.
Maybe I didn’t get the job
cause of the polka dots.
Maybe I don’t care
cause of the wave.
Today I’m blue.
Tomorrow I could be anywhere.
All these pop songs about dying young
like it’s gonna be so epic.
The only difference between 8th grade
and now is the blowing up
the use of color
& perspective.
Things that are with you
when you wake up
& you feel like
someone’s there.
Same rainbows
under her eyes
clouds floating in the air.
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