by Tyler Hawkins

She’s restless and feckless and stressed and a mess and tirelessly reckless, but check it:
Her friends think she's dope.
No one else clings to hope or is blessed like her. Nope.

And she knows it. 
She shows it. 
Every now and then she glows in it, rolls in it, unfolds in it, 
then blows it

Away away away.

PoemSamantha Schutz