Poetry

I am here to say this

in only facts

because I don't rely on feelings.

Fact:

Your Mr. Remarkable is quiet.

Cold.

Closed off.

Didn't interact unless

absolutely necessary

smiled maybe twice.

You were always

the original scientist

that inspired the hearts of malleable

kids. They would be sitting in circles

of those numbered matts

with fiddling fingers

that only were (slightly) off task.

You were always a good actor

But you don’t act like you used to

Don’t lie

I can see the pain in your eyes

Your silent cries,

Your pleas for help

And I know in their eyes

Hi

Yes

What is your name?

How is your day?

Those are the words that apparently

are vital for learning a language

only if the owl is saying it while

this is for all of the invisible people

you are seen

and you are loved

I don't know who needs to hear this today, but

you are enough and you are loved

:)

            Hey, I know it’s been a while, but my grandparents still ask about you and I still remember your birthday. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m still holding onto the pieces I have left of you. 

When I was small,

the sky was a storybook—

every page dotted with stars

too many to count,

each one whispering my name.

But now the nights glow

with lights that never sleep.

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

the numbers scream

I’m not enough

I’m not enough

I’m not enough

we are not composed of numbers

so why do we let them define us?

(YWP Editor's Note: Congratulations to Csquared! This poem is the November 2025 winner of  The Tomorrow Project's monthly awards!

Past the burning day, 

at bedtime when I shrug off sleep, 

when I've got school the next morning, and I shouldn't be here,