My Poetry: "The Unnamed Shack"

The Unnamed Shack

When thinking of it, I don’t hear cries for help with high school.

I see a place where phones weren’t really a big deal yet.

The unnamed shack is not a comfort zone.

I pray every day for things to go my way.

When listening to music it’s all good.

When I’m not, I scream internally.

I am a walking optimist, yet I

sleep on bed sheets

of regrets.

I enjoy many things,

yet I secretly hate everything.

Emotions run high on a winter day,

especially if past memories come into play.

I am not these words, or am I? Am I to be —?

Ever heard the line, “If you don’t have anything nice,

then don’t say anything at all.”

I feel as though the line is actually:

If you do not want to be ignored, say something right.

So what is the unnamed shack? A happy place. My happy place.

A little nickname I give to my internal world combined with my external world of me.