Creative Corner

Brock Hayden


On a warm yet windy Wednesday, I thought I’d take a stroll
And when I stepped outside the door, the wind did take its toll
A gust hits my hair with irksome strength, then uproots a nearby tree
My hair is hardly presentable now, but it doesn’t bother me!

Deciding that I should fix my “do”, I turned back to my door,
I felt in my pocket. My key was gone. Okay door, this is WAR!
I kick and I shove but the door doesn’t budge, as the wind kicks up more debris
I guess I’ll just find another way in, but— it doesn’t bother me!
“Aha, I have an idea!” I exclaim. Through the window I jump, effort-free.
I notice the glass has torn my shirt, but— it doesn’t bother me!

I look down at my ruined garment and suddenly try not to cry.
It’s not my clothes which upset me so; the glass has cut my eye.
The pain I feel is quite intense, I let out a breath with a rasp
I struggle not to cry aloud, then hear a strange voice gasp.
I sit up to search for the frightened voice, and look around the room;
Before me I see an old lady. She is scared, her eyes full of doom.

I sit up with great confusion as she pulls a gun from a drawer
Then I realize this isn’t my house at all, but rather the one next door.
Six months later I sit in a court room, and the judge spells out his decree,
I’ll be going to prison, but, hey, guess what? It doesn’t bother me!