Control is the rusty metal bar in Middle School gym class.
Your hands gripped around it,
Your feet dangling in the air.
Your friend beside you laughing, asking who can hold on the longest.
But eventually both of your knuckles turn red,
Your palms rubbed raw.
One of you will let go first,
But eventually both of you will grow tired.
You’ll hear the teacher’s whistle calling out,
And you’ll both have to surrender to gravity’s weight until your feet hit the ground.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Published by Alanna Higdon
Hey! I'm Alanna.
I've been writing poetry and short fiction stories since I was in middle school. I'm now 23 and have graduated college. I want to take this time to share all of my creative writing with others who have similar interests. I'm starting this blog to explore new prompts and ideas. My biggest passion is poetry but I have a love for any and all types of writing.
While I use this blog to share my writing, I'm also hoping to explore freelance writing opportunities. I can't wait to start publishing my writing on here!
A little bit more about me, I was born on the west coast but have lived on the east coast for most of my life. I graduated from college in 2019 as a Sociology major. I'm a lover of cats, coffee, horror movies, rollercoasters, night time walks! You can always follow me on my Instagram for more information and daily updates!
-Alanna
View all posts by Alanna Higdon