Seventeen

Everything I touch turns to shit.
When is it my turn? I keep asking myself. The world keeps revolving, but it left me on mars to smoke cigarettes with a foul meteoroid...
There are some days when I want to run away to Indianapolis, become my own woman, and run with the clouds. What college am I going to. Where the fuck am I. I don't know.
There is an open field, with dancing wheat crops and flowing dandelions. I'm searching, I'm running, the clouds behind my tail and my eyes focused on what is in front of me.
Yet, I don't see it. yet.