Posts
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the pleas of a prisoner
My name is Lucy Danto. I am in the eighth grade at the McCullough Junior High School in Texas. Please, if even for a brief moment, let my voice be heard.
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The Sun Will Rise Again
Her blood is engraved into these pages
Slowly unraveling the truth
Exposing every flaw in perfection
Every short-lived high
Every precocious low
Has driven the knife deeper into her lingering past
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Time
They told me that time would heal the wounds,
But they couldn’t have been more wrong.
No matter how many years pass,
Time does not heal.
Time buries baggage until you forget,
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The Rise and Fall of A Star
We were rising.
Like twin flames,
Dancing in the darkness,
Spreading warmth to the stars.
In my mind,
You were a star,
Radiating your astronomical light onto me.
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A Mess of Jumbled-Up Sentences
Everything’s blurry
But I can’t stop writing
If I take my pen off the paper I’ll break,
I’ll shatter
I stop writing my heart will bleed rivers of words,
Words I can never say aloud
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Fall Forgetfulness/That Was It (Part Three)
It’s been so long
Since I’ve seen your face
That I’m starting to forget
The color of your eyes
And the way you smile
But I’ll always remember
The way you cared
The leaves fall
Loves
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Timeless
I wanted to stay there forever
Under that tree with you.
I wanted to lie there
Live beneath the sky's blue.
I wanted to look at the constellations at night
And name the clouds' shapes in the daytime.
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seventeen
today i am sixteen,
but in five days i turn seventeen
i lie on the bridge between my childhood,
and the promising future ahead of me.
as i held dearly onto my most beloved stuffed animal,
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how did we get here?
How did we get here?
With a man who lies
and stirs the storm,
who turns hate into headlines
and power into a joke. -
To Dream
maybe one day i'll see you
at a class reunion 20 years in the future
you'll have gotten taller than i am in heels
your hair will no longer be curled and bleached but
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School
School’s great. I *love* waking up early
to sit through hours of stuff I’ll forget.
Lunch? A gourmet mystery I’ll never solve.
Tests? Oh, the thrill of failing with style. -
lonesome
in the dark corner of a lunchroom, she sits
with an indigo binder clutched to her chest
a seldom frown threatens across her lips.
she hears the old thrum of the voices around her,