Gnats

Seasons, teen girl depression, all such goodies.

It's summer.

The drain flies have crawled out of the sink again.

They float and cluster in my mother's bedroom, 

they chatter in the kitchen,

and they mingle around the living room.

They don't come to my room, though.

They never do, and they never will.

In a way, I think it's because they know 

that I'm one of them.

Like the gnats,

I spend my summers buzzing sound the city,

seeing sights and discovering friendships.

Then, when the leaves die and the days get shorter, 

I shrink away and barely exist.