Seventeen

I sat on the highest hill of the city, spread my arms like a mad wildfire, and screamed. My scream went for miles, slithering in the ears of the entire town and the bunnies that hide under the shed. I stopped, and the world echoed back my scream fiercely, then faintly. I could still hear my scream twirling inside of the trees while I slowly laid down. The wind whisked my hair like eggs inside of a boiling pan. I felt like nature's food, a warm chunk of girl waiting to be eaten away.
My fingers silently tapped around the dirt in ovals, while my brain drifted into memories of you. Your dimpled smile, your butter teeth.
I always wondered if the earth has suffered from a tragic ending like this. Whether the core was ready to explode, ooz through the cracks of the mountains and splurg with rage on all the remaining humans and animals. I guess that's what a volcano is, the thundering depression of the earth. The earth has never driven itself into a suicide, like I have once felt like doing.