so I stared
ever since the magnificent maze under the lakeshore crumbled,
the smoke even smelled like ancient cola cans and rotten fabric
and the burning sensation made me cry
keeping my eyelids open for far too long
so I ran
for the messy, crass hills which
contained the faulty bronze door knobs
left over from the abandoned shacks
so I turned
into a puddle of tears that returned
from the deepest place in my heart
so I jumped
into an abyss until there was nothing left
Srihith Jarabana is a sixteen-year-old poet hailing from Oakville, Ontario. He likes boxing, board games, and taking the train with his friends to the city on the weekends.