A Parable by the Love-Struck, Teenage Mind Unsettle me. Rattle the bars of my cage until my blood boils and screams like lightning in my veins. Dissect my brain. Mold me like a little girl at Sunday school, And leave me be when the lily white starts to fade away. The leaves outside are falling to the ground like wrinkled, wet pages of unwritten stories. Fill these blank pages with your teachings, abstract them with you fingerprints. Be the author of this gigantic fairy tale, but don't tell me the ending. We are bound to go wrong somewhere. Sit with me at the dinner table. We'll digest our self-inflicted wounds together. I painted a portrait of you and threw it in the trash. I was afraid you would be offended by your disfigurements. Forgive me. I am an artist; I cannot help the way I see. Pieces of us are confettied on the floor, And people are starting to notice the mess. Everyone is staring down at us now. They could pick us up, But where would they take us? Melissa Willis 12th Grade Center for Creative Arts Meri Sowders
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