Rebecca Allen
Scripps ’25
When I’m not
Crying,
I look at the smoke
Detector
On my ceiling
With its
Persistent green light
That makes my room
Feel like it’s underwater.
When I think about things,
About you,
About how much you hurt me,
About how much I still want
You anyway, about how I hate
Who I’ve become,
I look up at the light
And it
Steadies me;
It won’t fade and flicker,
It will always remain there,
Shining,
Waiting to warn people
Of potential danger.
Where was my warning?
Image Source: @darkkhour
