Editor’s note:
Antonia Zwissler is a King’s student whose poetic work, which is marked by a wistful, yet defiant, streak, we are proud to feature today on the Watch.
I need to run,
The sleep of the righteous
is fitful,
I’m trying to become more wicked.
I’m tagged as a trend,
Trapped in a storefront,
The most real thing about me,
Are my bare feet.
Scarred and dirty,
Unmanicured nails,
Chipped and cracked,
Made to run but far too idle.
I sleep on the bus,
I’d rather that than walk,
Rather walk than run.
Poetry saves me
Time and time again,
But it’s not on a white horse,
It has desperate fingernails,
It’s a figure,
Hanging from a cliff.
I stumble,
Time and time again,
I walk,
In circles,
I solve,
The same problems,
Time
And time
Again.
1.1
My world becomes fuzzy,
And I draw a picture.
I wonder when I’ll move on,
The floor feels tilted,
And I go out and buy a lamp.
I lean on the walls,
Take a deep breath,
And I go to bed.
1.2
I find and lose love,
I take care of myself.
The world tilts on its axis,
It falls away,
I take care of myself.
I feel confused and lonely,
I have no choice,
I take care of myself.