Posts
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I hate the sunset tonight
Why won't the sky explode in a burst of orange-yellow-red radiance, turning each moment golden? Or fade into lavender laced with blue and whisper-pink, the world muffled and soft around the edges?
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One of Those Girls
I can't shake the feeling
That I'll never be one of them
Girls with lives made of honey and laughter,
Girls with someone who looks at them
Like they're laced with something unknown and magical,
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My Name/Your Name
cover my eyes so i can see you better
my night shadow, cloaked in delicious mystery,
your hand, forbidden fruit, holding mine
under the waning light of a summer's day.
i wish
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at home on a winter's night
The thick night cloaks everything and the snow follows suit
a delicate dance, welcome
after two years of rainy Decembers.
My room is cold even though
the heat is blasting, so I sit
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Australia
At school we draw in the margins of our notebook paper
and toy with the idea of moving to Australia.
We look up the latest news in between classes, knowing that
the teachers will think we're addicted to our phones.
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Apple Cider
I want to drink apple cider with you
Like it’s a fine wine,
Make-believe adult, wrapped in your wool blanket,
Counting the minutes until your parents return.
Loves
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when the sun sets tonight.
i hate the sunset tonight,
i usually enjoy sunsets,
sitting on the roof,
with the wind blowing up my hair,
craning my neck up to the sweet sky,
swirls of gold.
it really is beautiful.
but tonight,
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Diary of June
I wake up and I’m suffocated by the love shoved down my throat.
Every inch of me feels no more than a piece of meat.
I am, in everyone’s eyes, insignificant in comparison to my owner,
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The girl with nail polish like stars
The girls drum their fingernails
Lightly
Not like real drumming
More like timid rain.
Their nails extend
Two nail lengths past
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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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nostalgia
as my skin weathers from the winter frost,
i close my eyes and embrace my loss.
my eyelids cast a darkness over the retina,
but the blackness becomes subsided by a light.
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The Man We Left in Cleveland
My copy of Frankenstein sits on my lap, the old pages glad to finally be read. I began it at the end of eighth grade, and yet I am only a few chapters in now.