4 AM; The Wall a Headrest

Take a look into Tara Brooke's brain and view her tired thoughts in her poem "4AM; The Wall a Headrest."

Things get out of my

head, crawl back in,

toss my brain around.

I’ve got some muscle

in my neck, I’ve been

carrying a lot up there

recently. It’s too cold,

it’s too warm, i’m

too weary to adjust the

thermostat. My

feet are dirty, I’ll

wake my mother

if I take a shower,

I smell like the leaves.

I wonder if they miss

their branches or

if the responsibility

of living up there was

too much to handle so

they just let go, fell

fell fell to the ground,

let themselves become

brittle, waited for the

next autumn to come

around so they’d get

some touch again,

some warmth, something

to remind them that

they’re not as alive

as they once were.

 

 

By Tara Brooke

Tara Brooke Teets is seventeen years old and a junior at East Hardy High School. She has been previously published in Canvas, and has attended the West Virginia Governor’s School for the Arts for Creative Writing.

Artwork by Kate Graham

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