Young Writers Society

God is a sneaky one

But he left my car running

So, I have to get it out of the parking lot

That my mother and father forbid me from attacking

On all sides of the cylinder

Because being somewhere-seventeen or whatever

Means my rights are ripped out above my heavy figure

And thrown into a white plastic bag

Until America finds a way to euthanize my feelings for good this time

God told me that he created the Earth

But now it's like he lied, and he just made a big paper diorama

Of my home planet

But never told me the materials to truly make Earth

Instead, now the big gunners in white coats

Tell me they created Earth

And that deer aren’t real animals

But headlights are actually just synthetic illusions

Inside my head

And hallucinatory hopes for the future when I cry at night

And all I can think about is how my plants are dying

That my sunflowers are turning stale

I hate screens and TV

I don’t like how it makes me feel

Like life is a well-made simulation

But oh!

God retrieved my car out the garage

Look! Its broken!

I can’t drive

I can’t steer

I can't feel

Because I just crashed my car into a freaking tree

For what I know now

But now you never knew

Romance movies make me feel unsafe

Action movies give me nausea

Emotional movies kill my joy

Drama makes me want to rip my eyes out

And Law & Order is stalking me

Because they make me feel like

I deserve to be ashamed of myself

Because I should have a reason why I let myself get hurt

I hate Law & Order

And I hate true crime!

I hate it

I hate when I believe I am a terrorist

But hey

Bio terrorism is in my head anyways

But I still hate true crime!

And I hate seeing God take my car

So, to God I say

Leave my car alone

And next time you use it

Fill up the gas for me, okay?

Alright?

I guess that’s a yes

Or maybe it's still just a no

Who knows!

THE END