Gray Clumps

Gray Clumps
by me(whatever)

clumps of gray spiderweb dancing on my ceiling
I watch them with unfeeling eyes.
The rest of the room is clean,
but this one neglection entertains me.

Last year I was a perfect 'A' student;
I was the rosy red of the apple you gave to the teacher.
This year I'm finding myself more colorful,
B's, C's, and stressful faces.

The point of a persons character
isn't where they do well.
True love wasn't in the glitter of Cinderella's dress
it was in the ash staining her cheeks.

Every time I'm feeling down,
like a failure or gravel in the driveway
I push my ungainly expression into the dirty pillow
and try to love my mistakes.

That's all I have to say.
I feel like eating a cookie.

The person I want to be is still unreachable.