I love your voice--
the way it whines
through the chorus of
my life
and wedges
itself between
agony and awkwardness.
Don’t stop pushing your
vocal chords through the
sting of
rejection.
Scream a little
louder. You just became a
legend in the minds of
dirty boys and romantic
girls. Sing about the
stars and swing your
fists to the masses.
STAND TALL as
Jersey’s Finest.
The grass
never felt
so wet. Hearts
never hurt so bad.
To no longer
groan is
to be grown.
You are forever
16, Conley,
static to throngs of
beaten souls. They cry
for your
pink locks
and the moan of
propagation. They
grow. Never to be
grown. Just you.