Writing

A snowy slope

Dark green trees

Snow pelting my goggles 

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,

Yet I’ve never been so afraid.

I look at the steep slope before me

Take in a big breath

My name is Leah, I’m 12, and I’m weird. My mom says it’s not me, it’s just everyone else and they’re still growing up, but if I’m the odd one out, I’m pretty sure it’s just me. 

Ce n’est pas ton nom qui flotte dans les airs,

ni tes mains tremblantes comme un rayon éclair,

ni l’arbre qui pend au-dessus de ton visage,

ce n’est pas le soleil, ni les ombrages

Shattered dreams run with the tears of rain

down the car’s windows excruciating life

Rampaging noise smearing my skull

Screams tear my shredded heart

Fractured stained pieces searching for a sun

You ask who I am.

Honestly, I wonder that too.

Sometimes I'm one thing, other times another.

Sometimes I feel like I'm just shattered glass piecing itself back together.

And then breaking again.

she comes from a world

of puddles and stars.

from a world where

lion and lamb play

innocently, happily together.

a world where she wears

her heart on her sleeve,

and hopes and trusts although