Teen Fear

Stupid Human Tricks

Short Story

The Balance


The Power of my Heart

I lay here, listening to the beat of my heart.
Trying to understand what it is telling me.
A whole new language,
beyong my comprehension
It's going to be all right,
I hope it tells me.
Only if I could understand,
Life would be much eaiser
That i could conquer the world
Then nothing could stop...
the power of my heart.

11th Grader
Seoul, Korea
About the author of The Power of the Heart.
I am a junior at Seoul International School.

The shadows danced
while the fires blazed
He watched and listened
to the noise that played
He stared with sleepy eyes
while wide awake
He remembered stories of courage
while his heart raced
what is honor and what is justice?
He asked as the noise grew closer
should we fight for peace
and destroy to create
He wondered as they fell
is freedom life or a chance to die
He pondered as the dirt flew
this is a dangerous game indeed
He wanted to ignore the screams
I am here for a reason
but I think I have forgotten why
the thought raced
as he layed down to die

College Freshman
Newburg, Oregon
About the author of Duty

I am eighteen years old and a college student.
I like to act, write, and sing.
I have an identical twin.

To look into your sparkling eyes
To know that you will tell no lies
Makes me believe in you

To see you standing before me
To know that you will always be
Makes me believe in you

Every single line you start
Every beat of your heart
Makes me believe in you

I love you
Just wanted to say so
I love you
Thought that I'd let you know
That I put you before everything

And to see you smiling, sweet little smile
I know that I'd walk any amount of miles
And I believe in you

Now I'm standing here
Asking a simple question
Answer as fast as can be:
Do you believe in me?

I love you
Just wanted to say so
I love you
Thought that I'd let you know
That I put you before everything

And no matter how far I have to go
Through rain, sleet, hail, and snow
I will always believe in you
8th Grader
Millville, NJ
About the author of "I Belive In You."  Likes to write, read, play video games, talk on the phone, and listen with friends.  Has two siblings and one pet.
To you my friend

We met on a warm sunny day,
You wore that red bow, and tied it your special way.
We  played for hours at a time,
until one of us would start to whine.

That was a long time ago.
How much you mean to me, no one will ever know.
You knew when Ive cried,
and wouldnt leave til I smiled.

You stuck with me through thick and thin,
and taught me that beauty came from within.
You are the angel that was sent down for me,
without you I wouldnt be.

Weve hatched now, and are about to leave the nest.
Your friendship and devotion was nothing short of the best.
Were off to discover who we really are.
But well always have our memories, like your mothers cookie jar!

Your friendship was genuine and true,
and to you I say. Thank you.

10th Grader
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
About The Author:
Hey.  Hope you liked it.  I was in a happy mood when i wrote it (you don't want to read my frustrating ones!).

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper
So you think you know what life's about
Let me clue you in on that
I'll change you forever for the better
I'll make you rich, happy and cool
I'll set you free, tonight if you want
I'll relieve all your hurts and pains
I'll show you mercy like no one can
All you have to do is beg
Riddle me this, riddle me that
Who's afraid of the big fat rat?
Riddle me then, riddle me now
Who's afraid of the big brown cow?
Riddle me here, riddle me there
Who ever said life is fair?
Riddle me when my spirits lag
Who's afraid of Smiling Flagg?
We walk the desert road
We walk the desert road
Stomachs empty, hands empty
Lives empty, heads empty
We walk the desert road forever
Bound for the city of sin
We walk the desert road till dusk
Till daylight fades and dies
We don't need no education
We don't need no books or tomes
We don't need no confirmation
Satan, leave those kids alone
Here we go round the prickley pear
Prickley pear, prickley pear
Here we go round the prickley pear
At five o'clock in the morning

12th Grader
Belchertown, MA
About the author of Clear

I'm 18, and this is one of my only ventures into poetry.  I mainly write adolescent fiction and fantasy.


These are the lyrics to a song I wrote, but they almost work better as just plain poetry.   There are a lot of borrowed elements, and it represents who I am as a writer in that way, showing the things that shaped me.
Hear My Cry

What is a cry?
Is it something you're to do when pittying youself?
I mean, when all the pain and anger and fear rolls upinto one big ball,
What are you gonna do,let it out and just fall?
Why cry? what's the point?
Does it solve your problems, does it cure your sore?
Or does it just make all troubbles more?
This thing we call pain, is it only a game?
And what about fear,our deepest secrets we can't bear
And anger, is it just a provoker?
Or is it just a lousy excuse to make you cry?
Somebody please tell me why;
Why ............. we cry.

9th Grader
Maplewood, NJ
Broken Mirrors

I sail on ship of broken mirrors.
When I look into the water
To see my reflection.
I fall overboard, and I am consumed
By a sea of confusion and everlasting regret.
I am lost, I do not know which way is up.
I only hold a vague memory of a time
When I used to enjoy swimming.

11th Grader
Quatsino, British Columbia, Canada
I Am

I am a somebody who can make a difference.
I wonder what others lives are like.
I hear moaning, dying children who could be helped.
I see the world as one, big, happy family.
I want to grow up and join the army to assist my country.
I am a somebody who can make a difference.

I pretend that I am the President of the United States.
I feel that we can make it through anything.
I touch the world and get a calming sensation.
I worry that the world is going to end in the year 2000.
I cry for the death of friends I know and others I don't know.
I am a somebody who can make a difference.

I understand the ability of others who are slower than me.
I say that all people should be treated equally.
I dream about peace and love in the world.
I try to make someone's day a little happier.
I hope we can live and love each other on the earth.
I am a somebody who can make a difference.

8th Grader
Warsaw, Ohio
About The Author:

About the author of the poem titled I Am.  She is a cheerleader of one
year, raises sheep with her parents, and enjoys reading.  This is her first
piece of poetry to be published, although she has written other poems.  She
lives in the United States in the state of Ohio.

Goodbye, Mama!
See you when I get home.
I walk out the door, no thoughts of the unfolding drama
That would soon break my lifes metranome.

Class crawls by,
As thoughts of tonights plans seep into my head.
Not knowing that today would be the day that my dreams would die.
Unaware of the confusion that would soon be replaced by eternal dread.

The bell breaks my thoughts,
I hurry to my next class,fearing to be late,
Not knowing that my life would be caught
Forever in a web of hate.

I see them, angry faces wanting nothing more than total destruction.
Life, I could tell looking in their eyes, meant practically nothing.
Humanity replaced by animosity and corruption,
They wanted us to feel what they had, never-ending suffering.

My friends race about looking for somewhere to hide,
Hoping that they will suddenly be utterly invisible.
Fear runs rampant, only in God do they confide,
Praying that their hiding spots will not be easily-accessible.

Smoke and water fill the halls,
Replacing the joy and laughter so soon abandoned.
Shots ring out, ricocheting off the walls,
Life too frail, the living demanded.

Goodbye, Mama!
See you when you get Home.
I walk out the door, no more thoughts of the unfolding drama
That would soon break your lifes metranome.

11th Grader
Brethren, Michigan
About The Author:

Writing is a way for me to express my emotions and dreams. Sports are also
very important to me.
Whispers of the Waves

In the cool crisp air of the night,
I sit on the beach.
Watching the waves roll in,
as they gently crash on the shore.
As they crash I hear them whisper to me.
They whisper of pleasant thoughts.
Thoughts of cheer.
Thoughts of victory.
Thoughts of love.
These whispers make me wonder.
I wonder what the world has to offer.
These whispers make me think.
I think what I have to offer the world.
These whispers I hear.
These whispers I feel.
These whispers of the waves.
8th Grader
Windham, Ohio
About The Author:

My name is Kyle.  Writing is one of my many hobbies.  I enjoy
basetball,skiing,and mainly outdoor physical activities.
For to share with you

i had a little box of golden stars
just enough for me
and you
but there was no one here
to share it with.

i had a little dinner
that i fixed special
with light blue candles
and bread
and things that i didn't necessarily like,
but i know others would
but there was no one there
to share it with.

i wrote 13 volumes of poetry,
stories, and thoughts
especially designed to make any random person
think any random, but happy thought.
and then i put picure in it,
real pictures,
and drawings,
and little pressed flowers.
but no one was home.

and no one came home.

i hung up my stars,
and set the box on my nightstand,
and ate my dinner, and blew out the light-blue candles.
before i went to bed, i read the books,
and traced the pictures with my little finger,
and slept.

10th Grader
Harrison, Arkansas
About The Author:
I'm just a young poet around.  I enjoy
critisism muchly.  thank you for reading this.

Hemmed in on all sides, the once lovely green valley looked like a carcass that had been picked clean. Buzzards now circled slowly, waiting for the late summer winds to carry them wherever it would. Night came, and brought a calm in the wind. The dust that had been tossed up by the winds now slowly settled down, filming over the cracked earth. The pale desert moon slowly rose above the lip of the ridge. The massive valley stretched on endless to the south until the mountains slowly integrated with the land. The last few coyote preyed on rabbits, occasionally stopping to howl a mournful tune at the empty sky. Where rivers had once stood, now there were only hollow, empty canyons of crumbling rock. Morning came, a blindingly painful white, sending long shadows of dying sagebrush and cactus across the parched land.
Where water had once coursed, and where plants and life had once lived, dying echoes faded through broken rock and twisted earth.
Slowly, even the survivors, the rabbits and the coyotes, had to leave the
valley for lack of food and water, and soon only the sun and the wind dared touch the dead land. The wind howled, scouring the dead earth until all that showed was the bone of the earth, bleached to a lifeless white. Time passed, mountains were beaten down by the wind, canyons caved in on themselves, and all that was left were long, flat gullies where the wind carved into the land, and the land had died.
Hundreds of years passed, and no life appeared where the valley used to be. One orange and red summer evening, the Earth jolted up furiously and a ridge suddenly appeared. Many more shudders shook through the land and broke it up, pushing dry earth higher and higher. The valley had reformed.
Big, dark clouds, more massive than the land itself, boiled up from the
southern seas. Over the new valley, they hovered, until they pressed the
land down under their writhing masses. The rains came, misting up and
becoming almost as solid as the land itself until the distinctions between
the two disappeared and everything was one solid world. Water rose over the land, heading imperceptibly south. If someone were to stand in one place, his soles would be on warm, hard land. Cool, gray water would be up to his shins, and above that is thick, dark, rolling mist, swirling around him, clouding his vision past an arm's length. No direction can be determined, no landmark of any sort could be found. He could pass a rock within a few arm spans and not even notice the only sign, an imperceptibly faster flow of the water.
The rains lasted for days, weeks, perhaps months. The water began to carve gullies into the land. Deeper and deeper the gullies became, becoming canyons, smoothing out rocks. Gradually, the rains diminished. The mists lifted and the sun sent beams of golden light through the mist, turning the land warm and golden. After the clouds had left, the first sign of life appeared on the horizon to the west. A small flock of geese had been thrown off course by the storm and stopped to rest on a rock near a small flow of water left over from the rains. One of the geese preened, and a small seed fell out. The geese left, never to come back, but the seed stayed behind. It was a grass seed, and soon, with water from the spring, it sprouted. The grass spread down the stream, up the rock, and across a slow-moving section of the stream. Rain came again, but not for as long. Many years passed. The grass spread for miles. Soon a river had formed, one that came down from the far north in the gre!
at forests. Pinecones began to show up on the banks of the river, and they soon grew to be firs, hemlock, spruce, and cedars. Elm trees began to spring up. Rabbits were seen scampering through the trees, and a family of foxes appeared, taking a hole in the bank of a small brook. Deer came quietly standing, wary in a small glade by the river. The natural order had been restored. Life had returned to the valley.

8th Grader
Vashon, Washington
About the author of Life; I am in 8th grade (or at least i am/was in the
98-99 school year)i wrote it on 1/9/99, one night when i actually didn't
have any homework.
Teen Fear

   Recently there was a tragedy here in the U.S. Two teens in Colorado
went on a shooting spree inside thier own school. I watched that and for
some reason I wasn't surprised I wasn't angry I just felt sorry for them, I
wanted to cry for them. I wondered what drove two pretty normal teens to
not only take their own lives but the lives of others as well.
     The only thing I could think of was the fear of life itself. You can
push someone out of an airplane, put a gun to their heads and threaten to to kill them. But there is nothing on Earth that's scarier than waking up
tomorrow to face the next day.
     This may sound scary or depressing. But think about it. Think how
difficult it is to be a teenager. You don't have the innocence you had as a
child and you don't have the maturity to deal with life that comes with
     It is this mindset that oftens sets us off balance. Anything can play
with our emotions we see a pretty face we think we're in love. Someone
calls us a name we become angry. This emotional roller coaster we put ourselves on cannot be helped it's part of who we are. The strongest of these emtions is fear.
     The biggest fear is that of the unknown the future. Does he/she like
me? Will I pass that exam? Will I ever get into college. Am I the only
virgin in this school?
     All of these are common thoughts among teenagers. There is one thing we must all come to realize. We are not the first teenagers ever to be put on this earth and we will not be the last.
     I'd hate to sound like a clique but live in the present. Yes you have
to prepare for the future but don't move to fast. Someone once told me that life is like a washing machine. You have to let each cycle take it's
     We are now in the most exciting ride of our lives, it's also the most
frightning. So go out and enjoy life just don't over do it. Go out to that
party just don't get too drunk, go out with that girl/boy just don't do
anything you'll regret. Most of all if you get scared or feel alone talk to
someone because if you don't get some help  it may be you I see on
television and want to cry for.

11th Grader
Far Rockaway, New York
About The Author:

About the author of teen fear. My name is Moses I'm a 16 year old football player who hopes to write on day as well as play football.
Stupid Human Tricks

World War II was a turning point in world development.  The war started with
a bang and ended with a decisive Boom! that will forever echo the worlds
insecurity.  The atomic bomb ended the war with Japan when it was dropped on
Hiroshima, Japan.  Now the threat of nuclear war hangs by a single thread.
At the time, the worlds most intelligent minds had been exploring the
atomic theory and its function.  Albert Einstein warned us against the
affects of the bomb in the early 1930s, but we were moving in fast forward,
and therefore did not heed his warning.  The effect: the horrible
annihilation of millions of Japanese citizens.  The United States pursuit
of world domination has gotten in the way of peace and justice.  This
illustrates the fact that as become more intelligent, we in effect, become
progressively more stupid.
Many literary works approached this dilemma.  Ray Bradbury offers one of the
most descriptive examples of human stupidity and laziness in the story There
Will Come Soft Rains, which is based on the poem of the same name.  Society
depends on technology to make its life worth living.  "The house was an
altar with ten thousand attendants, big, small, servicing, attending, in
choirs." Every aspect of their lives is dependent upon objects, so what do
they have to live for? What can they possibly achieve? This story relates
that since we are so involved with advancing our technology, we will
inevitably fail to remember why we are even around.  As we take advantage of
this blessing, it is quite possible that we will destroy ourselves.
One day our worst nightmare will come true.  Our technology will become so
advanced we will forget how to live, and completely destroy ourselves.  It
is quite possible that if there are any survivors, we will go back to a
primitive, caveman-like state.  This is because we will finally realize what
our laziness and stupidity can do.  "By the Waters of Babylon" is a perfect
example of this.  The author, Stephen Vincent Benet, showed us that we could
return to the fetal stage in society development.  We do this because it is
finally obvious that technology is detrimental to our being.  The main
character goes into a city destroyed by humans, and fears for his life.
Although he is not sure why he is afraid, the new culture which he is a part
of realizes the danger that we put ourselves into when we  rely on machines
to live for us.  His father says, "Truth is a hard deer to hunt. If you eat
too much at once, you may die of the truth.  It was not idly that our
fathers forbade the Dead Places." Will it take almost completely destroying
all human life to realize this?
The earth is not as bountiful in resources as many of us think.  We cant
seem to comprehend this and it is starting to show.  Rainforests are
clear-cut by the mile, animals are slaughtered for their material value, and
development is choking out all natural life for pure profit.  Do we show any
signs of intelligence?  Joni Mitchell said it best when she sang, "You dont
know what youve got till its gone.  They paved paradise and put up a
parking lot." We are more interested in material profit than natural beauty.
Environmental activists realize this, but when they protest, society labels
them radical because they do not support big business.  They understand the
value of life and know that it wont be around long if we stay on our
present course.  But again, we as people are so interested in evolving into
an intelligent species, that we make stupid decisions to get there.
When we finally do destroy ourselves, who will be there to care? The animals
and wildlife that we have destroyed for decades will surely not mind our
absence.  In fact, as William Cullen Bryant acknowledged in his poem,
"Thine individual being, shalt thou go to mix forever with the elements, to
be a brother to the insensible rock and to the sluggish clod, which the rude
swain turns with his share, and treads upon.  The oak shall send his roots
abroad, and piece thy mold."
This is reinforcing the fact that we will just return to our original carbon
state.  Our absence will far out-last our existence, so nature will not miss
us.  Sara Teasdale also spoke of this in her poem, There Will Come Soft
Rains.  The last stanza of the poem reads, "And Spring herself, when she
woke at dawn would scarcely know that we were gone." Our lives are not
inevitable; someday human life will not be around because of the choices we
make, and who is going to be around to care?
Needless to say, we as humans are on a crash course to self-extermination.
Technology is surely a factor, but more importantly, our choices will be the
dominating force.  Being intelligent is not the things we know, but actually
the things we learn. Hopefully, we will learn this before we exterminate
ourselves through pure selfishness.

11th Grader
Brethren, Michigan
About The Author:

I enjoy sharing my emotions and dreams through writing. Sports are also a
large part of my life.
The Balance

It was about three-thirty in the morning, but my mind was still working in
complete cohesiveness.  I was in a large building with around twenty other teenagers, my peers, most of who were falling on their faces, limp with lethargy and sleeping in sweet apathy.  All except Her and me.  I was there.  She was there, and to me, that was all that really mattered.  My vision was crystal clear and my hearing was sharp as a razor.  I had to be at my absolute best.  Why?  Because I was with Her.  This was very important.
Things were teetering on a demented seesaw, and it could tip left one
second, right the next.  And the desire to keep the balance was part of what kept me so cognizant.  No matter what I did, I had to keep the balance.
Every movement drove me to insanity.  If She tweaked Her eyebrow, I gasped.
If She sneezed, I would almost faint.  All on the inside, of course.  Never
would I reveal the violent storm that raged and ravaged in my head and
heart.  If that were to happen, it would tip the seesaw.  Never.  Never.
She was talking, and I could hear every word She said.  I even understood the words.  I could reply, too.  For some strange reason, this amazes me now.  It shouldnt, for I was totally cognizant the whole time.  But the very idea that I could conjure words to say to Her, to Her, is spectacular.
Her every feature made my head swirl.  When She was near, I would hold my breath, so as not to take in too much of Her scent, fearing it would knock me over with its beautiful and overwhelming power.  I was afraid of Her scent, yet it filled me with wondrous joy and ridiculous adulation.  I yearned for, I craved, I lusted for Her scent.  It was like poisoned honey.
She filled every second of my existence with something I barely know how to describe.   I was happy, yet fearful.  Hopeful, yet knowing that it would all end soon.   I wanted Her to stay with me, by my side forever.  If She were to leave me, even turn Her back to my face, I would cringe and cry, writhe and scream, twist and turn, but only one the inside.  Always on the inside.
Never tip the balance.
We talked, and for quite some time, I remember.  Her words were eloquent, soft, euphoric, and music to my afflicted and caustic ears.  We talked about everything from lightning to baseball to birthday cake to physics to the nature of mankind.  The world was purple, perfect, totally undisturbed.  And I was happy.
Three-thirty and I was totally awake.  I had to be.  I was the most
important thing in the universe.  If I were to miss one smile, one batting
of the eyelashes, one stretching of the arms, one pucker of the lips, that
would be the end.
I wondered what She thought of me.  Was I charming?  Was I annoying?  Was I perfect?  No, that couldnt be.  She was the only perfect one.  How could I ever compare myself to Her?  I was I, and She was She.  It doesnt get simpler than that.
Someone was snoring.  After all, everyone else was asleep.  All but me and Her.  That was that way it shouldve been.  Just Her and me.  Was there anyone else in the world?  If there was, it made no difference to me.
Perhaps the worst of it was not knowing how I was doing.  What was She
thinking?  What went on in that perfect mind of Hers?  The uncertainty was the worst of it.  Yet, that was one of the things that drove me on.  I had to find out.  And most of all, I had to win.  If only I knew how to win, or
had any idea of what winning was.
When we stopped talking, it was weird.  The words had stopped, but the
euphoria hadnt.  The silky softness of Her conversation still lingered in
the air like perfume.  We had stopped talking because someone sleeping near us had woken up.  How I hated him.  Why?  Because now, She was talking to him, not me.  How dare he?  She was my perfection, my glass menagerie.
What kind of fool was I to think that?  If anything, I was Hers.  The
perfection that She wore like a coat herself my liquid eyes in steadfast
place.  So what about him?  Were the two of us in competition?  I dont like to think so.  The only things in competition were the balance and I.
However, he was a disturbance to the balance.  Therefore, he was my enemy.
That disappointed me, because I dont like to hate.  So, I put it out of my
mind, and concentrated on Her.  What better thing was there to concentrate on, anyway?
He walked away and my heart leaped.  The floor was mine again.  I had the power to maintain the balance once more.  But then, She left, too.  Without saying anything to me.  She just got up and followed him out the door, leaving me sitting on the cold floor.  My questions were answered then.  My uncertainty was put the rest.  And I died then.
The time was four-thirty by then.  I was alone.  My peers around me were
still asleep.  But She wasnt there anymore.  I may as well have died then.
Alone is the worst thing to be.  I cried, because there was no more balance to keep.  My competition was over, and I had nothing to do anymore.  Not only that, I knew what had gone wrong.  I comforted myself in the knowledge that it was not my fault.  But the two of them, him and Her, were together somewhere else.   And he had his own balance to keep.  Good luck to him.
Four-thirty in the morning, but I wasnt cognizant anymore.  I fell asleep
next to one of my peers and dreamed.  The slumber was sweet, and from then on, I had to keep that balance.
12th Grader
About the author of The Balance

I've been writing since I was around 15.  I'm 18 now.  I mainly write about
teenagers, though I also dabble in fantasy.  I'm also a songwriter and a
guitar player.

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