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Kyla Jonas is 17-year-old girl from Los Angeles. She writes poetry, presses flowers, and drinks copious amounts of coffee.
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Instagram: @sleepykyla
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As The Dawn Comes
1.14.16
As I ran through the trees,
I looked to the sky and prayed to the spent moon.
I knew, I wouldn’t always be running. Faster now, the whispers of
wind flew through my hair and weakened my adolescent knees.
With goose bumps like mountains, and bruises imitating the
Great Lakes, I was one
with myself and the surrounding world.
My mind lay still.
Secrets and every answer
to every question I had ever asked, rushed into my ears as the sun peeked at the day.
It was then that I turned around
and saw night tracing my every step. My feet dragged me backwards, hand in hand with night. I was falling into an abyss of white roses and as I fell, I swore they looked like stars.
-Kyla Jonas
Sting of the Scholar
Unsure of my existence, another, licentious being emerges from the shadows of the dimly lit mind.
My hands held qualms about consciousness.
We have been thrown into the crucible of the deathly modern era.
Old age ignorance casting words of cruelty
to the blasphemy of the new, the polished girl.
Our feelings, titillated by the smile of a kind face or the laugh of a calm soul.
The inventive, daring and daft ideas that the young
intelligence has created, dismissed and put to shame by the aged.
The unbroken, but ne’re do-well hearts cursed by future lovers, future life that many have come to know.
The girl, mentally inert, watches the perjury of the past loved shared between her parents.
Soft, diabolical girl with messy hair and a life never lived to the fullest,
waits for the sibilant call of the bird to wake the minds of the young, of the wild scholar.
-Kyla Jonas