Lynn Stillman Poems

With much of a struggle
up the tower I climb.
Weighed down by anger,
by sorrow,
...

My mind can be quite the prankster.
Just as mischchievous as it can be.
When a little confidence decides,
to kick back and settle in,
...

you said you would
always be there for me.
You even wrote those
very words, on a piece of paper
...

Sometimes I look at my life,
and I feel like I am again
the nameless and invisible
kid in school.
...

I have seen all of the beauty
that can be seen in this life.
My remote, vantage point,
overtaken by anger and hopelessness
...

Looking at the magazine covers,
in the checkout line at the grocery story.
Thin, perfect movie stars, the latest diets
then recipes for the fattiest cakes and cookies
...

The night,
so endless.
Having such an apathetic influence
over the conscious mind.
...

Where are you from?
Why are you so fat?
You are not the right color.
What kind of a name is that?
...

At fifteen years of age,
you are born.
Born perhaps prematurely,
into manhood.
...

Tonight I lie wide awake in my room.
Too afraid of the horrific dreams,
that plague me.
It gives me too much time to think.
...