Tear Drops Sting
Tears flow from my eyes all night long.
Even while I sleep,
I can feel the sting of tear drops.
It hurts me more than you think.
To my sanity,
You’re the only link.
I must have you in my life.
You mean more than you know,
More than any hug or kiss or piece of jewelry could ever show.
You don’t know what these tears feel like.
You see, tear drops sting,
More than the feeling of a knife.
Tears hurt you mentally.
I don’t understand,
Why you had to leave me.
A song of depression in my heart I sing.
Because you see,
Tear drops sting.
Centralia, IL, U.S.A.
|About the author of "Tear Drops Sting". I wrote this poem for my ex-girlfriend. I really love this poem and put my very soul and raw emotion into the writing of it. Anyway, I wrote that recently after she broke up with me. I am 15 years old. I live in southern IL. I've lived here my whole life, but its a nice community and I don't mind it one bit!
Sitting Alone in the Dark
I've been sitting alone in the dark.
I've been tied to be fit. I've been fit to be tied. I am solid. I am shaky.
There is something behind me. There is something inside me.
Shadows shadow the shadows. Dark darkens the darkness.
I am alone. I am silent. I am in the dark.
I have waited wondering. I have grasped for something. I have tested my boundaries. I have struggled against my ropes. I have called out. I have been answered in echoes.
I am left cold. I am left alone. Cold tired hungry achy-shaky breaking can't quite take alone. I am alone.
No what how when. No who where why. No answers.
But only echoes. Only my voice against the walls. Only me against the darkness. Only me against myself.
I am struggle personified. I am watching black. I am blank. In a hole. In a whole.
I am alone.
I am shouting silence. I am questioning my answers. I am. Am I?
WHO am I?
Why AM I here?
What am I doing?
I am face up. I am face down. Facing empty. Facing blank. Facing something without seeing.
I am bound. I am tied. I am held.
I am captive.
I am captured captivated. I am solitary solitude. I am doubting. I am not so sure.
I am questioning.
I do not know what I thought I knew.
I am closing my eyes. I am relinquishing. I am giving in. I am free. I am fading.
I am gone.
|Jaime is currently at work on a novel. She is not very tall.
They met at the office. He asked her out. His delightful smile lured her in. He would pick her up at seven, and they would dine on the waterfront. She had not dated for a year and a half and was pretty excited and anticipating the result of this chance meeting. They ordered filet mignon and a bottle of champagne. Halfway through the meal she was catching a few unpleasant vibes. Perhaps she was coming on too strong...possibly her short black dress excited this man a bit too much. When he opened the restaurant door for her and pulled out her chair, she was sure she wanted to take him home with her tonight. But now…now, she was feeling cheap, like he was staring at her body and not looking at her face while she spoke. He asked if she wanted to go out for drinks after dinner. She felt drained and repulsed. Now she knows why she hasn't dated for a year and a half. He took her home and insisted on coming in. She promised another time and recognized his disappointment. This "magical evening”, which began with flirtatious touch and sexual innuendos; ends with two disappointed unattached individuals.
The Crime of Starla Anne Starkley
She looked haggard. There were circles under her eyes and her frizzy, bleach-blond hair hung limp across her shoulders. She absentmindedly scratched her collarbone, then pulled a Marlboro Menthol out of her pocket.
“D'ya have a light?” her voice was that of an ignorant southern woman brought up to be polite, a soft and lilting drawl riddled with insecurity. I handed her a pack of matches.
“Ms. Starkley, may I call you Starla?” She nodded. “Starla, I know you've been through this a hundred times, but I need for you to tell me exactly what happened so that I can properly defend you.”
She struck a match without fumbling and carefully placed it in the ashtray. She took a long, deep drag off the cigarette as daintily as possible.
“That's fine. I've sort of brought it upon myself.” She rubbed her collarbone again.
“Darrel, well he, uh, he was not at all what I thought he was. Y'see, he had a good job, and he had a house. It was a nice house, too. With a front porch, and a back deck, and one of those finished basements. I loved his house. It was the best thing 'bout him, I gotta say. My kids loved that basement. Once, when the heat in our trailer wadn't workin', the five of them slept down there for a few days. I always thought he loved my kids. I mean, they're good kids. Everyone loves 'em.”
“Starla, I don't mean to be rude….”
“Oh, yeah, of course, I'm so sorry. I just, I miss my kids. I always get a little sappy thinkin' 'bout them.”
“But, back to what happened. You see, I'm not what you could call a success. I never finished school, what with havin' my firstborn, that's Lucinda. She's real smart. She'll never end up like her mama. I'm real proud'a her. But I was only sixteen when she was born, so I never got to go to no proms or nothing'. I started working at the diner, where I still work. Well, where I still worked at up till recently. And after I had Cody, he's my third, I started working double shifts. We always got by, but usually it wadn't too easy. Our trailer's real small, and it's a hell of a time getting' six people ready in the mornin' with just one tiny bathroom, especially with the water pressure as it is in them things. But my kids and I, we did pretty good regardless. I always did want them to have a house to grow up in, though. And now, now poor Lucinda, she's gotta take care of everybody, her bein' of the age and all. I just wish they're daddy was still around, at least to help out with !
“It's better that he ain't around, though. He done them enough damage as it is. Y'see, I was young and stupid when I met him. And I just thought he was a good lookin' man with a nice car. How was I supposed to know he was an alcoholic and undependable. But I shouldda known better. My mama always said she wadn't gonna raise no fools, but look how I turned out. Well, he was in and out of all our lives for years. He left after, my second, Jimmy was born, he said I was gonna make a fagot outta his boy, just 'cause I held the baby when he was cryin'. That's what a mother's supposed to do! Take care of her kids. So I did and Marshall left. Did I tell you his name afore? Well, it was, and still is Marshall. He did come back though, when Jimmy was a year or so. And he stayed long enough to get me in the family way with Cody. But only long enough to get me that way, once he found out 'bout it, he up and took off. Didn't see him for two years.
“I shouldn't a taken him back like I did. But by then I was only older, not smarter. And he did stick around this time, long enough that my three oldest got to know what a asshole their daddy was. And long enough for me to get pregnant again. That's all he really did now that I think 'bout it. He knocked me up and he left, and came back. You'd think I'd a learned somthin', but it took me five kids to figure out that he wadn't no good for nobody.
“I did finally kick him out 'bout three years ago. I'd been on my own with the kids for nearly two years afore I met Darrel. And, this is gonna sound real bad, but the whole time, I felt sorta incomplete, y'know, 'cause I didn't have no man. My mama always told me I needed to get a man and keep one. She's pretty old-fashioned, I guess. Well, y'see, when I met Darrel, my mama liked him, she liked him a whole lot. And I always did wanna please my mamma. She's tough on me, mad I never finished high school, mad I never settled down like her and my step daddy. So I guess I looked past a lot a things that I shouldda seen.
“He used to come into the diner a lot. I never really knew why. He had enough money to go somewhere nice, but he would come in and order the greasiest thing on the menu. Every day for lunch he had a hot dog and some chili. I dunno how anyone could eat that everyday without getting at least heartburn. But he would just smile and ask for refills on his coffee. He was always real nice to me then. He tipped real good, too. After 'bout a month or two of flirtin' he asked me to go out to dinner. I told him that I'd love to, as long as it wasn't at the diner.
“Now, he told me he'd take me out for a real fancy dinner, so I should get all dressed up. So I went out and bought this dress, it was real pretty. It was gold, but not too shiny, more of, uh, what do you call it? When the color's sorta flat? Well, anyway, it was a real nice dress, with a bow at the back, and my girls, Lucinda and Kerrianne, they loved it. But I didn't have any shoes to go with it, so's I bought this pair, for pretty cheap, 'cause they were on sale. The thing was they didn't have them in my size, which is a seven and a half, only in a six and a half, but I really liked them, and they were open in the front and the back, so I figured I could manage. I don't know why I'm tellin' you all this, it ain't important. But he took me out and we had a real good time. I really thought he was great. But I've thought a lot of things that were wrong.
“Pretty soon, he was havin' my kids over for dinner, and takin' us all out places. At least once a week, he had us, all six of us, somewhere. The kids, well, they liked him okay. The boys did, 'cause they hadn't ever really had no one to do manly stuff with, since Marshall would really just drink and get mad when he was around. Darrell, he would play catch with them, and they'd watch TV and do boy things. I figured they needed that. Lucinda, I think she was just glad to see me get out some. It was Kerrianne that wadn't so sure. She wouldn't really go near him when he was around, but I thought it was 'cause she's shy. Darrell, though, he made a real effort to get her to like him. He would talk to her special when we went places, and let her decide things for everyone, like where we'd eat or what movie we'd see. She warmed up to him eventually, but she never did trust him. I shouldda known that meant somethin', especially since Kerrianne ain't usually so shy, but I didn't even!
think about it at the time.
“Starla, I don't mean to rush you, but do you think you could get to the night it happened?”
“Oh, of course! I'm so sorry, sometimes, my mind just wanders. Well, that night, I was taking Jimmy and Cody to their hockey game, they're so close in age that they play on the same team. And Lucinda, she had a date. Darrel offered to watch my two youngest, Matthew and Kerrianne, but Matthew, he wanted to see Cody and Jimmy play hockey. So, I took my three boys, and Darrel was just watchin' Kerrianne. I didn't think nothin' of it. Why should I've? So's I left little Kerrianne at Darrel's house, and took my boys to the hockey game.
“'Bout halfway through the game, I got what you might call, mother's intuition. It was just a bad feelin'. At first I thought maybe it was Lucinda, her bein' on a date and all, but I knew the boy, and he's real nice, for sure too, not just 'cause I wish he was. And then, I just knew it was Kerrianne. I wasn't quite sure what it was, I just knew somethin' was wrong. So's I left Matthew with Cody's friend Patrick's mother, and asked her to drive my boys home if I wadn't back afore the game was up.”
She began to tear up and squirm in her chair. Her voice was shaking.
“I sped all the way to Darrel's house. I'm still surprised that I didn't get pulled over or nothin'. And I, well, since I had a key, I just let myself in the back door. And I heard, I heard, Kerrianne cryin'. And I heard Darrel whisperin', all low, like she was asupposed to keep somethin' a secret. And so, I went real quiet outta the kitchen, and peeked into the den, and he, he, he—“ She burst into tears. I handed her a tissue, and waited for her to collect herself.
“When I was eleven, my stepdad, he, well he did to me what Darrel was tryin' to do to my little Kerrianne. And I, I just couldn't let that happen to her, not to my baby. So's I went back to the kitchen, and I went to the drawer, and I got a knife. It was a big one, too, well, you've seen it, you know. And I went real quiet back to the den, and I, I—“ She started crying again. I put my hand on hers for comfort, but she pushed it away. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes to wipe the tears away. She wiped her nose and began again.
“I never said that I was innocent of killing him. I did it. I put that knife into his back as sure as anything. But he was gonna hurt my little girl. I couldn't let him hurt her. I couldn't let that happen. It didn't matter that he had a good job and a nice house, or that he seemed to care. It didn't matter that my mama liked him, and that she thought we were gonna get married. It didn't matter.
“All my life I've felt like a puppet on a string. I felt like I just did things that everyone else wanted irregardless of what I wanted or needed or should be doin'. I was sick of it already, but when he tried to—to, well I, I just couldn't do what everyone else wanted. I had to do what was right, what would keep my child safe. So I did. It just happened that what I did was killin' somebody. I never wanted to hurt nobody. I never wanted for anyone to die. I only wanted to be a good mother, a better one than I have been. And now look at the mess I've made.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I believed that Starla Anne Starkley was completely and totally justified in doing what she did, but there was no way I could prove that to a court. There is no way to decide what is justified and what is not. I could not save Starla Starkley. But I'm not quite sure that she wanted to be saved.
|About the author of The Crime of Starla Anne Starkley: Jaime is currently at work on a novel. She is not very tall.
I am a girl who knows she is nobody
I wonder if anyone will notice me
I hear people say that I am nothing to them
I see people act like me and laugh
I am a girl who knows she is nobody
I pretend to act cool
I feel my heart break inside
I want to have friends who respect me
I am a girl who knows she is nobody
I touch my pillow and tears fall down
I cry when I look in the mirror
I wish that someday I could be better
I am a girl who knows she is nobody
I understand why people don't like me
I say, when will they see who I am inside
I dream I will fit into this world
I try to be myself but it won't matter
I am a girl who is nobody
Charlotte, N.C. USA
|This is written by the author's sister:
Kerri is a student in the eight grade. Sometimes she just feels like she needs to get some things off of her chest. She lives here in Charlotte, N.C. with her mom, dad, and sister. She one day aspires to be a successful singer. She is very focused on things when they interest her and she sticks with them. She loves to write and I hope that that will come into play later in her life.
Tonight the Poet Inside Me Dies
It is my hobby
It is always sorry
Well, the way it should
I need to do better
I am getting sadder
I need to go on
Many people are fond
But the fight is in me
And I flee
Is ending me
Social standings rising
Self-pride is diving
Tonight I say with a sigh
The poet inside of me dies
|I wrote this at my lowest low. I recently lost three of my family members. I was in a great depression and I figured that some of my friends liked me only because I write. I decided to stop writing in public and write a show only a few people. Then I found out who was my real friends. then I went public again. I just wanna know I am not the only poet that felt like that.
Perhaps my greatest memory
Is the time when you and me
Went to that show
And it was then that we got to know
That we were not alone
You looked at me with a serious tone
But then I tried the yawn
So you slapped me and my face was a red as dawn
|I'm 14 and live in a tiny town. That's all you need to know
Looking for Love
I see him sitting there,
Looking as contempt as can be,
I think about who I am,
And I wish he liked me.
I like the way he moves around,
How he strides right past by,
I like when he smiles at me,
It makes me feel like I can fly.
Though he’s taken,
I still have hope,
I pray to God,
To help me cope.
I just saw him move,
He got up and strode away,
I lost my chance to speak up,
To tell him what I had to say.
I wanted to say how he makes me feel,
How all I do is think about him,
But most of all,
I want him to know that have feelings for him.
But I doubt he’d care,
Or even have an interest,
About the my feelings and thoughts,
Or the pounding in my chest.
So right now I make a promise to myself,
To forget him and everything he does,
To find someone else,
To look for love.
Port Pirie, South Australia, Australia
|HI my names Ashleigh i live in Australia i love writing poetry and stories and i love drawing and art e.c.t soo i hope u enjoy!
Keeping it all clean,
Mind - body - and soul,
While in a world so mean,
So hard is my Goal.
Believe in my truthfulness,
That I hope you do,
For ignorance is such bliss,
I wish I never knew.
The blood I bleed in my sleep,
I know it isn't real,
But up my back these chills do creep,
The ones I wish I couldn't feel.
Nightly battles fought,
That will never see the field,
Horror stories in which I was caught,
But that old skin is now peeled.
Breathing for tomorrow,
Living for today,
Pushing back my sorrow,
throwing it away.
I try to fight the good fight,
But it's up hill all the way,
They blitzkrieg at my plight,
It's quite the ugly fray.
Now nothing is dear to me,
Not anything that was,
Only my writing will set me free,
My head's not filled with fuzz.
The world's becoming clearer,
As dirty as it is,
But my mind's becoming dearer,
Now without the fizz.
The world's becoming sleazier,
Resisting it like an abduction,
But breathing's getting easier,
Holding back is now my function.
It begins to please me now,
That is how long I can stay,
For some do stop to ask how,
And I tell them the simplistic way.
If you can stop yourself for long enough to ask,
To not snort or smoke or drink from the flask,
Then you can stop long enough to complete a harder task,
And when you have finished in this new glow you will bask.
|About the author of Sobriety. I had always loved to write, but then I fell in love with drugs. After I spent 11 days in jail, filled with withdrawals, I began to write again. So now I share my pain with everyone in hopes of preventing someone else from making that mistake. So if this is published, take it from me, sometimes drugs are o.k.; however, everyday use is to become an addict. So never start.
eyes shut tight
has long forsaken me.
[silent screams inside my head]
through out my dreams.
the line between
truth and lies is,
so many hollow words...
spoken into existence
burned to ashes in the mind.
as i become
Knoxville, TN, USA
|I am a 15 year old student who has been writing poetry for the last 3 years. My goal: to become a published author. Inspiration for this poem comes from a personal experience, as 99% of my work does.
THE INSANITY OF MARY JANE
I have never met my grandpa. This, surprisingly, was to my benefit. Actually, now that I think of it, I have met him. He came to meet me once. When I was two years old. Needless to say, I don’t remember the event. I am actually rather shocked that my mother allowed this. She detests my grandfather. Her father. Her mother’s husband. At one time. To my mother, he is not a father, or a husband, but an ordinary man with his own life like many, many others. To my grandmother, he is forgiven, and, a little more importantly if you ask me, forgotten. To my Aunt Mary, he is evil, detested, and the anathema of her life. My grandfather was not a good man.
My grandma’s, my mom’s, my aunt’s and his life intertwined in a destructive web for a period of about ten years. It all started, I believe, with alcohol. Not in ordinary, safe, amounts either. But in excess; sinful, scary excess. Both my grandma and grandpa were alcoholics. They sipped on wine and brandy and forgot their problems and how much they hated each other together. It was, perhaps, the only thing that they did together. On that unsteady wire, their marriage hung. Every day was a struggle to keep it together. I suppose they thought this would help the children. That was absurd. Just ask my Aunt Mary.
So, on this happy dysfunctional note, my mother’s family survived. But of course, as most volatile situations tend to do, it erupted. One thing that is important to understand, before seeing how the family dynamics progressed into a civil war can become clear, is what the family dynamics originally were. My grandmother was a hopeless and devoted wife. She hated my grandpa, but loved the Catholic church even more. On this note, she didn’t dare get a divorce. What would God think, not to mention Jesus? My grandpa was arrogant and pretentious. Most of his adult life was spent furthering his law career and destroying his personal life. My mother, the oldest girl in the family, became a sort of surrogate mother. She was the house keeper, babysitter, chauffeur, and role model all in one person. She, to say the least, resented her parents for their high expectations and low affections. Mary Jane, the next oldest daughter, was in charge of everything my mother happened !
to forget, to mess up, or to be too busy to do. She received even less attention from my grandparents and struggled, on and off, with manic depression. The family, unstable in the beginning, became volatile over time, and eventually blew up. Anyone who didn’t see it coming was a fool.
My grandfather decided that it would be a brilliant idea to hire Mary as his assistant secretary. She needed a summer job and it would give them time to spend together. Mary was less than thrilled, but saying no to her overbearing father did not seem like an option. The only benefit to the entire ordeal was working with Evelyn. Evelyn was the best. She had been my grandpa’s secretary, and the family’s neighbor, for as long as anyone in the family could remember. She was kind and adored my grandparents brood of kids. She was also my grandma’s best friend. She was, it seemed, the only person liked among the entire family. With that in mind, Mary optimistically set off to work each morning that summer.
Things at home did not look as optimistic as Mary’s job. My grandma and grandpa were, predictably, at each other’s throats. My mother and Mary would huddle in their bed together every night listening to the screams of their parents penetrate the walls of their room. The fights’ sounds went something like this: screaming, shattering of glass, yelling and crying, finally calming, and the popping of another wine bottle cork. It became the musical theme of my mother’s life. Mary would huddle against my mother and cry, listening to the firing of insults between her parents. Mary, unfortunately, got caught in the middle.
My mother swung the car through the parking lot and stopped in front of an awaiting Mary. It was the end of the day and her shift at the law office was done. She got in the car, slammed the door and said, “Go.” My mother went. Mary stared straight ahead and began to cry. The tears rolled down her cheek slowly and quietly. My mother looked at her, and tried gently to pry out what was wrong. Mary refused to say a word and, upon arriving home, she dashed to her room and didn’t come out for more than ten combined minutes in three days. Finally, when she did emerge, not a word was said of her outburst. My grandpa immediately sent her back to work and things continued, as normal, whatever that was in the house at the moment.
My grandpa did not come home at nights. He would often spend the night at his office working on depositions and what not. Those nights were peaceful, quiet, silent. At first, everyone appreciated it. The break in the ongoing war was received well by everyone, even my grandma. She came to love the hours alone that were not spent battling with her husband. Everyone did. Except Mary. Each night that her father did not come home she would cry profusely. No one knew why. It seemed as though Mary was always crying. Whether her father was home or not. Finally one day, as my mother was taking her to work, Mary again began to sob. She begged my mother to take her home. She’d cry, scream, kick, do whatever, to get my mother to turn around. As they pulled into the parking lot, my mother finally asked her about everything; the crying, the sobbing, the hatred of work, why was she acting this way all of a sudden. Mary pointed shamefully at Evelyn’s car in the parking lot.!
It was parked in the same spot as the night before. She, too, had spent the night at the office.
My grandfather and Evelyn’s affair lasted almost 5 years on and off before my grandma and grandpa finally divorced. Needless to say, Evelyn moved and never spoke to my grandmother again. The youngest children in the family did not, and still don’t, know how long the affair lasted. They are, for this reason, the only children in the family who still speak to my grandfather. Often they would invite us to the country club to lunch with Evelyn and my grandpa. My mother always respectfully declined. My grandmother is doing well now, but Evelyn’s name is not mentioned in front of her. My mother has told me the whole story and has let me decide whether or not I want to see my grandpa. I told her no. Mary, however, was not so lucky. It was later revealed that the affair had lasted all summer and Mary had kept it a secret from her mother for some months. She saw, everyday, her father and Evelyn’s relationship. She was catapulted into further depression and now speaks to !
few, if any, of the family members.
I did not grow up knowing this story. I used to desperately want to meet my grandpa. Who wouldn’t want to meet the man that sent hundred dollars for my birthday, even if it was a few weeks late? Who wouldn’t want to know who was sending the expensive jewelry at Christmas? I used to wonder what was wrong with my mother for not wanting to associate with so generous a man. Now that I know, I think about what my mother went through. I think about the endless nights she spent crying in her room. Every time I think of that, I know why my mom won’t let him in our house. I know why his hundred dollars a few weeks late means so much less than my grandma’s card and hand picked gift. I think of Mary, locked in her room. I think of Evelyn, out to a luncheon with my grandma, her “best friend”, listening to my grandma espouse about her marital problems as Evelyn secretly smiled. I think of her seeing my grandma as her boyfriend’s wife.
I still have not met my grandpa. I don’t think I will ever want to. He is a man, with a girlfriend, who hurt my grandma, embittered my mother and who was the cause of Mary’s insanity. I can only imagine what he would do to me.
Tucson, Arizona, USA
The lights are low, the people milling. The shops glean brightly through all their light. Different faces from different places, different clothes, and different backgrounds. A single boy with a broken arm slowly licks an ice cream cone. An elderly couple not yet caught up in the trend of divorce. Young girls no longer young, when did everything go so wrong. A single picture held in mind a single night held in date a single month held in a year. A pair of glasses with flame red hair floats by. Not people just blurs of color that roam the Earth wordlessly and mindlessly as Gypsies once did. Persecution of beliefs ever present in the land of the free. Broken glass, broken hearts, broken minds, broken lives, no glue is needed no glue is supplied, it may be fixed but the cracks are ever present in our minds.
Lansdale, PA 19446
|I wrote this piece at work one evening and had a revelation of how the world must look from space. No one sounds could be heard just blurs of colors floating around.
As I walked into my first period class early one morning, I my eyes took hold Nikki. She stands at 5' 4" with medium-brown hair that looked as though he had recently taken a small shock. She has a chubby-slender type body, reminding me of a farm girl in every way, but that is what made her amazingly attractive.
"How's it going, hun?" She asked in her usual flirtatious tone.
"Honestly?" I asked, and watch her smile fade from her face. "It's going great." Her smile returned. "I stupidly told Kelly I would go out with her, and her friend Kirsten found out."
"That doesn't sound so bad," said Nikki.
"And it wouldn't be if Kirsten wasn't trying to make us go to Homecoming. We were planning to go to the movies and hang out, but, no, Kirsten won't hear of it. Now I am forced to go to some lame assed dance and have a horrible time."
"Oh, don't worry about it. You'll have fun. And a date, just think of all the pathetic people who won't even have dates. Just go and have fun."
I wanted so badly to make Nikki understand, but she couldn't, and neither could anyone else because they didn't know me. No one knew me. And me going out with Kelly made sure no one ever would. Instead of persisting in my "conversation" I just decided to smile and agree. I don't know what happened during that class, and I was almost positive it would be like that the rest of the day too.
"Hey Ms. B," I said to a teacher about the same height as Nikki, but much skinnier with long black hair. She was one of the few computer teachers, and I was an aide in her keyboarding class. I went to the back of the room to see if there were any papers that needed filling, and, sure enough, there were. I took the folders with the papers and went over to the bins where the students' folders were. I started filing when Ms. B's students started arriving.
I looked up to see one of the freshman coming to get his folder. He was about 5'6," around my height, but at least thirty pounds lighter. He had black hair and he normally wore jeans with a collared shirt. He could pull that look off like no one I have ever met before or since.
"Hi, Jesse," I said, sure I would do something to look like a fool. "Are you going to the Homecoming game on Friday?"
"Yeah," he said, looking up from his search. "Are you?"
"Yeah, I'll be there. Maybe I'll see you there?" I tried to play it cool.
"If you do, I'll save you a seat." He pulled his folder up and slapped it with the back of his hand. "Found it. Hey, are you feeling okay? You look a little red." He smiled and turned to go to his computer.
I knew it. Something went wrong. That type of thing always happens to me, no matter what. I opened one of the windows near me to get some cool air, and I went back to filing. I mainly thought how dumb I must have looked with my face all red. The period flew by, but not before my creeping depression crept up some more. I said bye to Ms. B. and headed up to Chemistry.
I don't even remember walking to class really. I was dazed the entire time. When I got to the classroom, I went to go in, but I ran into someone and dropped some books I was carrying. I looked to see who it was, and it was Adam, I boy I knew since my freshman year, but I never really talked to him before. I had just recently been trying to become friends with him again.
"Oh, my god," I said in almost a state of shock. "I am so sorry, Adam. I wasn't watching where I was going and I just... I'm so sorry." I could feel my face getting red enough to boil water, so I stepped to the side to let him get by, and I got down to pick up my books. Instead, though, of him going to where he was going, he decided to help me, which didn't help me at all. "Oh, thanks," I said," but, really, you don't have to."
"It's okay. I want to. It was only an accident and not just your fault anyway." Adam said as he was gathering some of my math papers.
By now you would have thought I was out in the sun for too long. I didn't want to look up, so I collected my things from Adam and went into the classroom looking at my Spanish textbook. Once I was slightly clamed, I took my Chemistry book out of my book-bag, got my notebook, and opened both to the lesson we were doing that day.
"Are you feeling okay?" Asked Becky, one of my best friends. "You don't look so good. A little flushed I think."
I looked up to see Becky's string bean figure standing next to the table where I sat. Her dirty-blond hair hanging only semi-tamed from a bun she was still working on. Not in the mood to explain anything, and the fact that I knew she would just say it could have been worse, and "At least it wasn't in front of Kelly; you wouldn't want to look like a fool in front of your girlfriend.", I just lied and said, "I haven't been feeling too well today because I didn't get enough sleep and I think the milk was stale."
"I know how that feels, it should go away soon. And look at it this way, it could have been worse. You could have thrown up in the middle of the hallway or something." The bell rang and she took her seat in the corner of the front of the class.
During Chemistry I copied excellent notes, as I found out after the end bell brought me back, but I was in thought during the entire time, playing and replaying the collision I had forty-five minutes before.
As I was walking out of class, I noticed Adam was in front of me. "Adam," I tapped him on his shoulder, and he turned his head, "are you going to the game this Friday?"
"Yeah, I will actually," he said. As he started going in the opposite direction as I, he added, "If you go look for me."
"I will, I promise," I said as I entered the stairwell to go down to my next class. As, I got to class, I saw Kelly. She ran up to me and gave me a hug, and I, tastefully, kissed her. "Hey, Kel. I've missed you." I put my hands on her hips and hers were on my arms. "Oh, I almost forgot," I said as I put my book-bag down and opened the front pocket. "A small present to celebrate our one week."
She gasped with delight, "A strawberry cupcake! My--"
"--favorite," I finished for her. "I know. And I baked it myself."
We both went to sit down and start our work. Our teacher doesn't talk or anything, he just gives us book work and lets us do it or whatever we want.
"Look at this," said John to one of his friends, "Someone went to a gay bar up in Wilmington and shot up a bunch of fags."
"If you ask me," Jeff said back, "he's done the world a favor. I think we should burn all the frickin' faggots like we use to with witches. I nice big bonfire."
"You guy's have a football game tonight, don't you," someone asked John and Jeff. They both nodded. "Have fun grabbin' and touchin' all those other guys." At that, the entire class, with exception for John and Jeff, broke out laughing.
Amazingly enough, I concentrated only on my work from then on. The period, however, seemed to go by very slowly. I thought for a while that I would be working forever. I yawned and the bell rang. I gave Kelly a quick kiss good-bye and left for English. English was...well it was English, what more can I say. I definitely didn't stay zoned in for it. The bell rang and it was time for lunch. I headed to the Library and promptly when to sleep.
The next think I knew, I was sixth period. Time for Spanish, and time to fail a test. I had studied all weekend for it, but nothing stuck. I tried studying a lot on Saturday, and on Sunday I tried the "calm" approach for it, only studying a little bit at a time for a short amount of time. When I got there Kelly was waiting for me out side.
"The cupcake was delicious. I loved it." Kelly said.
"I'm glad you liked it. Do you have a cross-country race today?" I asked vaguely remembering it.
"Yep, I do. I leave a little after seventh period." Kelly said, her hands in mine.
I kissed her sensually, and said, "Best of luck, Kel." The bell sounded and we went in. I took the test and the period ended.
As I was leaving, Kelly called to me, "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I can't go to the game on Friday."
"Why," I asked, faking to be upset when, really, I was beyond relieved.
"My mom is making me baby-sit my brother and sister because she and dad have a business dinner to go to."
"Okay, I'll tell you what happens." I said, and I left for math.
After math, I drove home over the bridge right by school just like I had for the past month. The rest of the week after that was just work, work, and more work. I didn't really have any time to think at all, so it was nice. My spirits, however, were still pretty low. On Thursday, I got my Spanish test back and saw I got just above a D, so that didn't help any either. Luckily, though, there were no more accidents."
Friday night came and I was getting ready to go to the big Homecoming game. I put on the best pair of GAP jeans I had, I wore my best sneakers, and I had on a school tee-shirt over a black turtleneck. When I arrived at the school, it was dark out and the field was as bright as day. I was nervous and excited all at the same time. I had the option of looking for Jesse or Adam, and considering Adam and I were both Juniors, I decided to try and find him.
I walked past the crowd at the snack bar, looking at the players of both teams getting ready to fight. I also was scanning the stands to find Adam. Looking for a boy with tan skin, and a short brown hair. A pointy nose, that fit him perfectly, and cheeks that were asking for a grandmother to pinch. If he were standing, I would probably be looking for a skinny boy in regular fit jeans with a green, insulated coat on. I found him about in the middle of the bleachers, and all the way up front. He stood and greeted me with a handshake.
"Hey, man, how's it going," he said with a big smile. "I'm glad you could come."
With an equally big smile, I said, "I'm glad I could come too." As I said that, the girl sitting next to Adam stood up.
"I would like you to meet Julie, my girlfriend," said Adam. "Julie, this is--"
"You have a girlfriend," I said, both stunned and cutting him off. "I-I've got to go Adam. Good-bye." I managed to stammer out. Then I turned and ran off the bleachers and headed for my car.
"Julie, I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? Don't let anyone take our seats," said Adam, and he rushed off after me.
I got to my car and hit the unlock button. I got in and shut my door, and got ready to start the car. The passenger side door opened as I got ready to start the motor.
"What was with that," Adam asked me as he sat down.
"I don't--I can't talk about it. It wouldn't be good for the either of us." I said.
"Well, I'm not leaving until you tell me," said Adam, buckling himself up.
"Then I guess I'll have to leave," I said getting out. Make sure you lock it up."
I started to run toward the bridge I had been over many times before, running behind the school and next to the football field. I heard a door shut and I assumed it was Adam, but I couldn't face looking back to find out. The entire time I was running to the bridge, no one behind me said anything so I assumed Adam gave up. I quickened my pace, and got to the bridge out of breath. I walked up to the small, stone guard rail by a light, and looked down. It's at least a good twenty feet, I thought to myself.
I grabbed onto the light, and braced myself on the rail when I heard, "What are you doing?" Adam ran up to me, out of breath, and pulled me away from side.
"Adam," I said to him, nearly in tears, "you shouldn't be here for this. I don't want to burden you. Go back to the game and be with you're...girlfriend." I shivered.
"I followed you all the way out here, and you really think I'm going to leave, just for some girl?" He asked me, astonished. He took me in his arms and said, "I know what you've been going through."
I laughed. "You couldn't possibly know what I've been going through. You're great at sports, you get good grades, and you've got a girlfriend that you want." I noticed, as I was talking, that I, too, was holding him.
Squeezing me, and parting us a little, he said, "I may be good at tennis, but I'm bad at plenty of other sports. And you get good grades, too. Your Chem grade is actually higher than mine. And I do know what you've been going through."
"How could you?" I asked, my hands on his hips and crying.
"Do you really need me to tell you?" he asked.
"Yes, yes I do because I just don't see how you can." I said.
"Like this," Adam said. He ran his hand down my cheek, and, then, in the circle of light made from the lamp, he gave me the best kiss I have, to this day, ever had.
|About the author of True Love. What is there to say about me? I have always liked writing, and my teachers say I'm good at it. The main subject I write is a Sci-Fi/Fantasy mix. This is the first time that I have ever tried Realistic Fiction, so I hope everyone likes it. I welcome all comments and suggestions because that is the only way to improve. I have been writing since, about, seventh or eighth grade, so I am not the best author.
I Can't Believe It's Not Love
"I'm so glad to have found you, my love, my sweet
Since that day whence first we happened to meet
I knew without you life would be incomplete"
So said Tyler to Chloe in their vacation honey-moon suite
As he gazed on her face, bright and pink-flushed with heat
His eyes locked on hers; two hearts rapidly beat
"Oh, my darling, how I delight to hear you speak
Those words, so charming, so sincere, so meek"
With a sigh and a swoon, her knees became weak
Further along their Fabio-esque affair
Came a trifling, silly, absurd little snare:
Of Tyler's possessions Chloe wanted to share
"You're always taking my stuff, you invasive wench!
Your slimy claws filch what's not yours to clench
I'm sick of you, with your false eyelashes and perfume
Chloe burst out, "I'll tell you something, Mr. I-know-what's-
Who always leaves me to clean up his mess?
What insensitive jerk doesn't notice I'm lonely and
"Geez, woman, you expect me to know what you think?
I'm your boyfriend, not some psychic Freudian shrink!
You demand way too much--this relationship stinks"
Angry and hurt, she cried, "You can say that again!
It would have worked out, according to plan
Why did you just have to be so human?"
RPB, FL 33411
|About the author of I Can't Believe It's Not Love: freshman student at Dreyfoos School of the Arts in first year of creative writing.
An American, what does this mean to me? I’m sixteen, a junior in high school, living in Imperial, Nebraska of the United States of America.
America was named after an Italian merchant, adventurer, and explorer whose name was Americus Vespucius. Whew! I’m glad they used his first name and not his last! Can you imagine saying, I pledge of allegiance to the flag of the United States of Vespucci? America just sounds right – it sounds American.
To be an American, I need to live in America. So what does living in America mean to me?
A is for America the beautiful. This last summer I had the opportunity to travel beyond places I often travel to like Denver and Omaha. I saw a lot of America’s beautiful country such as Pennsylvania’s massive, continuous, roller-coaster, green hills. I was able to stand on the steps of ours nation’s capital with a sense of accomplishment and pride as if I was breathing it in from the air. I could feel the fast, exciting heartbeat of Chicago streets. I could feel the mood of a somber silence one block away from New York’s blackened ground zero.
M is for the memories of so many known and unknown heroes, truths and lies, war and peace, life and death, which have written the settings, the plots, and the climaxes in our country’s novel that continues in an adventurous series.
E is for the eagle that spreads its wings of freedom, soaring high over the mountains and reigning gracefully over land and sea.
R is for the right of religion. In many other countries the religion played is “My way or no way.” In America we play “My way, your way”. I am free to have my beliefs or religion and not be persecuted for it. “My way” is being a Christian. I believe “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life”. (John 3:16)
I CAN see America is beautiful. I can read the many chapters of our great nation’s book. I can soar like an eagle. I can play “My way, your way”.
I can be proud and thankful to be an American sixteen year old, living in Imperial, Nebraska of the United States of America. It just sounds right.
Imperial, NE, USA
|I am a 16 year old junior from Southwestern Nebraska. I wrote this essay for my English 3 class.
The Second Choice is Sometimes The Best
One of the best childhood memories I have is when I got my dog Trusty. My family and I drove to an animal shelter somewhere I can’t remember. All that day it was pouring down rain. When we arrived at the shelter we ran to the door. We were soaked by the time we were in the doors. We went up to the front desk and asked the man if we could see the dogs. He was a tall man with white hair and sort of a pointy nose; the way he looked freaked me out. He led us down a fairly long hallway with doggy wall paper running down the middle of the off-white wall. As we approached the door we could hear tons of dogs barking. We walked through the door and saw all kinds of dogs. Big, little, black, white, and just about every breed of dog you could think of. It was quite a site. We also figured out that all the barking was coming from there two little brown and white shrimpy dogs. That was really surprising. After looking around for a while we picked out a golden retriever who was only a puppy. My parents decided to come back for the puppy later because we needed to go and eat lunch first. We drove to Wendy’s for lunch. While we were there we talked about responsibility for taking care of the dog and stuff. For instance feeding the dog and taking her on walks and so on. After lunch we drove back through the pouring rain and the muddy roads to the shelter. Well good things can also turn into disappointment. When we walked into the doors we saw an old lady holding our dog. She was an old lady in a wheel chair and her skin was all baggy and she was ugly. Personally I was mad. I mean we came first and picked out the dog. Also you should have seen the lady it looked like she was going to die next week. So my parents said “let’s take one more look.” So we did, and while we were there they brought in a stray. It was a black lab mix. It looked even better than our other pick. My dad was the first to spot it and said “look at this on!
e.” So we left that day with the best dog of them all.
Blacksburg , VA
Home of the Brave
"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave." I'm sure that we've all heard that phrase, but do we realize the sacrifices made which enabled our country to be free?
In our country's beginning, we were bound by our oppressors. Many lives were lost to establish and secure freedom in our country. As a result of the hardships and death that took place in those early years as our country was founded, we now have the privilege of living in the land of the free; however, that privilege does not come without cost. Each citizen has an obligation to stand up for the freedom so bravely fought for.
We all have an obligation to break the chains of prejudice and persecution by treating black, white, Hispanic, elderly, and disabled males and females with equal respect. We have a duty to come to the defense of those who are abused, ridiculed, discriminated against, or impeded by physical or mental limitations. We must persist in our efforts to not use stereotypes and continue acting on the Bill of Rights by expressing our opinions and beliefs freely.
We also have an obligation to show pride in our nation's freedom. We can do this by standing, removing our hats, and reverently placing our hand on our hearts whenever we hear our national anthem or recite the Pledge of Allegiance to our flag. This visible display of pride is something that even an assembly of tiny children can perform. The foremost way to individually show pride in our nation's freedom is to act on our right to vote. In the past year, the number of people who voted has reached an all-time low, being down 10% over last year. We are forgetting that in order to maintain our freedom, we have to be active participants in our government. If we don't vote, we have no right to complain about how our government is being managed. It's just like the other day, when my mom asked me what I wanted for supper. I said that I didn't care. So she went to the kitchen and made my least favorite meal, hot dog stew. I started complaining because I didn't want to eat!
it. She said I already told her I didn't care, so I shouldn't be complaining. She was right. If we don't voice our opinions how are people supposed to know what we want or do not want? If we aren't active in voicing our freedom then eventually our freedom may be revoked. If one by one, Americans stopped voting, eventually only a minority would control the government. With that minority determining our governmental leaders and laws, eventually democracy itself would start to dwindle away. Along with our democracy, our freedoms could vanish one by one.
Freedom is constantly being challenged. Americans often attempt to hinder the freedoms of their fellow citizens. We kill, cheat, steal, and lie, but no matter how or to what extent we perform these acts we challenge the freedoms of others as well as ourselves. On September 11, 2001 the freedom of every citizen in the United States of America was challenged. Our freedom to go to work, travel in airplanes, and walk along the streets without fear of being bombarded or attacked was taken away. Our country as a whole realized that our freedom is not indestructible and we need to continually practice and defend that freedom.
Defending our freedom is the ultimate obligation. We do this by defending each other and showing pride in our nation's freedom in the form of demonstrating reverence to our national anthem and flag as well as voting in elections. When we put to action our freedoms then there is less of a chance that they could be taken away. We must constantly remember, every person deserves to be free. Therefore, we must help one another to reach that ultimate goal of absolute freedom. Only then can we truly live "in the land of the free and the home of the brave."
Imperial, NE, USA
|Michelle is a Junior at Chase County High School in Imperial, NE. She participates in cross country, basketball, and track. She also participates in the choral and drama departments of her high school.
The Most Important Thing
“What,” said the boy with the blue eyes, “is the most important thing in life?”
“Love,” said his older sister. “It’s the only thing in life.”
“Having fun,” said his little brother. “And ice cream.”
“Being honest,” said his father. “That’s what really counts in the long run.”
“Staying out of trouble,” said his aunt, who had two children in prison. “Too many kids these days think they can do whatever they want.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said his mother. “Why don’t you go clean your room while I think about that one?”
“What do you think is the most important thing in life?” asked the boy with the blue eyes of the neighbor with the garden hose.
“That’s easy,” said the neighbor. “A good retirement plan.”
“No,” said the neighbor’s wife, “Don’t you confuse that boy. Son, the most important thing in life is having good friends. You can’t loose if you’ve got friends to count on.”
The boy with the blue eyes went to the girl with the dark skin and asked her what she thought the most important thing in life was.
“Being free,” she said. “If you aren’t free you don’t have a life, anyway.”
The tired-looking woman at the bus stop turned to the boy with the blue eyes and asked him if he had a dollar. The boy did, and he gave it to her, and then he asked her, “Ma’am, what do you think is most important?”
“Good citizenship,” she said. “I’ve been waiting here all day ’cause no one would give me a goddamn dime. One damn dollar is all I wanted. Thanks, kid.”
The boy with the blue eyes sat next to a tall, delicate man on the bus. He asked the man his question and the man answered slowly,
“The most important thing in life is realizing that there is no such thing as being normal.”
The delicate man with his perplexing answer shook as he coughed. The boy with blue eyes offered the man a tissue. He got off at the next stop and walked down to the nursing home where his grandmother lived.
“I asked everyone I saw today,” he told his grandmother.
“And?” said the old woman.
“I don’t think anyone really knew.”
The boy with the blue eyes shrugged. “Oh, well. What do you think is the most important thing in life, grandma?”
“Love,” she said.
The boy with the blue eyes was surprised. This was not the answer he had expected. So instead of going to the arcade he stayed and watched her soaps with her.
Mary Esther, FL
|This sort of moralistic subject isn't my usual, but I thought I'd give it a go. It's just a simple little story, really, written in about 20 minutes this afternoon
It's A Free Country
“I don’t have to! It’s a free county!” Sound familiar? These words echo faintly from our playground days. Even as children, we were keen to the numerous freedoms we have as citizens of the United States of America. We were young and carefree, unaware of the obligations we carried. But now, upon reaching an age of maturity, we must address these duties. What are we obligated to do? What must we do to keep our freedom from slipping?
We must give and take. We must compromise. “My way or the highway” has no room here. Our country is like a team; we work together and reap the benefits of our labor. Even our forefathers saw the need for compromise at the dawn of our country. They set aside their personal ideals and worked together for the common good. The largely populated states, such as Virginia, and the smaller states, like New Jersey, had their own plans for representation. To choose only one of these solutions would have resulted in a biased and unequally represented government. Instead, the people of America came together and created one of the strongest governments in the world. They met their obligation.
We must also contribute to society. Everyone gives something. Some give more than others. Contributions range from ten minutes of the day, to serving as a juror, to the ultimate sacrifice: the giving up of a life for the red, white and blue. To give to the local pantry touches people in your own community. To those people you are more than an ordinary citizen. You are a hero. Not only are you feeding adults but children, who are the future of this country. In addition to feeding their bodies, you can nourish their minds as well. Tutoring and teaching instills a lasting image of desire to be a part of the future and places a piece of the past into the hands of our posterity. We meet our obligation by giving to others.
As descendants of the original colonists, we have an obligation to preserve the sense of patriotism that ran so thickly in the blood of our ancestors. When we think of loyalty, a flag, fluttering in the breeze, comes to mind. The flag has always been a prominent symbol in our lives. Think back to the very first time you said the pledge of allegiance. You stood proudly with you hand over your heart, eyes fixed upon the banner of our country. But patriotism extends beyond the flagpole and into our everyday lives. After September 11th of last year, Americans flooded the country with a renewed sense of patriotism. Suddenly, we didn’t take life or freedom for granted anymore. We took time to get to know our neighbor and to smile at a stranger on the street. American flags were everywhere and hundreds of young men and women joined the armed forces, to assure our freedom. But today we need to continue caring about others and preserve freedom to fulfill our obligations.
Freedom is a celebrated tradition in this land. It rings from sea to shining sea. But unless we pass on the value of this freedom, it will slowly but surely lose importance and die away. We know as young adults and later as parents and authority figures, we must teach future generations the importance of freedom. It is our duty to pass on these values and to instill a sense of obligation in the people of generations to come. We must not only teach our future about our country’s past but also the history of our family, because if it weren’t for them, the USA would not be what it is today. They have established the boundaries of our obligations.
As the important issues in our lives have evolved from kickball to homework to sports to jobs, we as people have evolved as well. We have become more aware of the world around us and what role we play in it. As they say, “There are no small roles”. We all play a part in this world we live in, and all have obligations to fill. While we are all difference, we have come together through compromise. Each of us contributes to the whole; each gives an effort for the team. We must be loyal to our team and to one another. We are all patriots. We must take every opportunity given us to bring ourselves a step higher than we were before. This why we are known as the melting pot of the world. We’ve brought together our ideas as alloys and fused them together to create a country as strong as steal. To preserve what freedom has given us is our obligation.
|I am a junior in a small town in southwest Nebraska. I enjoy reading, playing volleyball and basketball. I hope to play volleyball in college, major in architecture and go into cahoots with my friend to create a Landscape Architecture/Renovation business.
I am from the sandy shores of the Pacific
I am from bleach blonde hair and people who care
I am from flip-flops and halter-tops
I am from watermelons on hot summer days
Bright blue skies and water park days
I am from bonfires on late summer nights sitting in the pale moonlight
I am from sunscreen and lotion
Crowds full of commotion
Noisy car horns and cell phone rings
The rush the holidays bring
I am from make-up and curling irons to pictures and pageants
I am from memories that embrace to fond summer days
I am from a place like no one else I know
I am me
From a far
Always be happy who you are
|An assignment about how I grew up.
Hide and Seek…
I run from what no one knows
I hide in my room where I cry but no one knows why?
I run from a monster the demon that lives inside
I hide from the darkness, the secrets, the terror
I run but when will someone find me?
I cry, but when will someone hear me?
I hide, but when will someone tell me I can come out?
I hide, but is it the someone and the no one that I hide from?
I hide from myself
I wonder do I have to hide?
Do I have to live in darkness?
I used to hide but I found LIGHT!
I hide from NOTHING!
I'm crying now,
Thinking of when I felt loved,
And then You send Your love around me.
I'm hiding now,
Scared of being opened,
And then You held my trembling hand.
I'm falling now,
Faster away from You,
And once again I pray, Lord, You will catch me.
Canton, Michigan, USA
Faded, frozen this man is
His gleeful gestures still mocking the horizon
His frozen heart still beating through the ice
Unwavered, consistent, surviving
He roams the Earth, seeing through the ice
Distorted visions, harmony in discord
Smiles frowning and soft voices shouting
So he frowns back, shouts back
But harder to encompass his pride
Harder to keep still the resounding beating
That is cursed to never stop
Watery images surround him
Images of truth, serenity and forgiveness
Images of heartfelt sorry’s and feelings
All droned out by the solitary beating
That echoes throughout the ice
|About the author of Frozen Nature
I enjoy philsophy and am currenty enlisted n te U.S. Army.
With the tears that flow,
Down the face of the girl,
The mascara smudges,
A line of black on milky white.
the eyes are red from crying,
Her skin is cold.
she’s all alone and crying.
Black stains mark the face,
Getting longer and darker,
Emerald are the eye,
Against the red of tears.
The face smudged black,
Beneath the tree,
The black smudge spreads,
over the face like a disease.
Seattle, WA, USA
|kate was born and raised in australia. she is now 16 living in seattle with her family. she enjoys music and you can often find her at her fave local concert venues.
A girl crying in her room.
She wants to have a steady life.
She moves from place to place.
Every few years she’s the new one.
The strange one.
She knows five languages.
That’s enough for her.
She looks at the stars,
Makes a wish.
Her wish doesn’t come true.
|About the author of A Wish... All of you who can relate good luck!
There’s a little girl on the highway
Wearing shoes that don’t quite fit
Her top is worn a little low
To show her chest a bit.
She swings her hips as she walks past,
Her skirt a little high,
With lipsticked lips and tied-up hair
Mascara on her eyes.
People stare as she goes by,
And frown at that girl’s style,
They whisper things and shake their heads
At her persuasive smile.
The rumor that I heard today
Said she’d been with a guy,
He’d dropped her after just one night
And someone saw her cry.
When I saw her on the way,
I acted like the rest
I whispered and I shook my head
And laughed at how she dressed.
There’s a little girl on the highway
Wearing shoes that don’t quite fit
She’s wearing last year’s fashion
And a beanie that she knit.
Her head is down as she walks past,
She clutches at her books
Her hair is pulled around her face
To hide the way she looks.
People stare as she goes by,
And laugh and what she wears
They push her books out of her hands
And kick them down the stairs.
Today I heard a rumor, that
She’d tried to run away
They’d bullied her so bad, they said
She’d rather die than stay.
When I saw her on the way,
I acted like the rest
I whispered and I shook my head
And laughed at how she dressed.
There’s a little girl on the highway
Wearing shoes that don’t quite fit
Her clothes are nice, her hair is straight
And no one stares a bit.
Today she saw a pretty girl
With make-up on the way,
She almost went and walked with her but
Was scared of what they’d say.
And further on another girl
With glasses on her nose,
She almost went and talked to her
But then she saw her clothes.
The rumor that she heard today
Said guys like hair with curls,
So she rolled her hair in paper and
Felt sorry for those girls.
She uses curling irons
And she acts like all the rest
And no one whispers, shakes their heads
Or laugh at how she’s dressed.
don't ask me what's wrong
don't tell me you're sorry
i've already been hung by my own self-pity
i don't need your sorrow, cause i know it's insincere
i keep thinking tomorrow things'll be better, then, next year
don't look at me
don't speak my name
don't waste your breath
i'm going insane
We're All Alike
Yet they all breathe it in
And claim to be healthy.
Gucci suits, or non-designer track suits
Yet they all seem to earn money
And buy exactly what they desire.
English, or foreign exchanged
Yet they all talk the same language
Just do not always understand it.
White, or black
Yet they're all as weak as each other
And just pretend to be strong.
Begging, or selling
Yet they still receive money
As though they actually need it.
Pale, or half-caste
Yet we're all alike
As we all fail to stand straight.
Yet they always use their competence
And never prove their incompetence.
Good, or bad
Yet we all change in a moment when needed
Though never admit it to hold onto our pride.
Married, or divorced
Yet they argue/ cry into the night
And persuade themselves they are happy.
Pretty, or ugly
Yet it does not prove the beauty inside
Which we take for granted.
You fall down
Who is going to pick you up?
|About the author of We're All Alike. My name is Natasha. I am in year 11 and am very much into sports and have recented began to enjoy writing. My poem is basiccally my point of view on life.