Observations in a Crisis by Olivia Burgess

I drive home & feel too much. I pull the curtain & the

night cries & feels far too much. In dreams I forget my name

& wait for trains in the steel mouth of morning. I

wake up & guess what, also feel too much. TV talking, the voiceless

conundrum of people. Newborns, lost women,

entire families all stranded with open eyes. I examine

the night, the one nobody owns, & feel too much. This mind

is endless. Earth tears. Hot cholera salt. Ions. You have to

make it scientific, & then you won’t feel so much. These train routes

rot all over me, city women & their truffled boots, men

with muddy briefcases. I am too soft hearted, too much flesh.

You, you were born. You, me, are destined to know the good.

I never reach the destination, the one where

they all collide. They wouldn’t know each other. This world,

one of my worlds, this world won’t know & care enough.

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“This was a purely cathartic piece that I didn't deem good enough for publishing simply because of its rambling tendency and the function it served for myself - to put all of this insurmountable feeling onto a page.”

Olivia Burgess (she/her) is a 17 year old poet from the UK. When she's not composing poetry based on nature, her inner monologue, or her muse, she likes to consistently tell unnecessary jokes and stare at the moon, for no apparent reason. You can find her on Instagram at @light_green.eyes