Self-Discovery
Seven...
Seven hours,
Seven classes,
Showing my true colors.
No fear of eight or nine,
No reason to change who I am.
Just happily seven.
Eight...
Goodbye seven, this is the real
world.
Real drama,
Real struggles,
Real experiences.
Do I compromise who I am?
But then again,
Who do people think I am?
Nine...
Goodbye eight, this is competition.
Who has more friends?
More popular friends?
Eyes all around,
Staring.
Judging.
Ten...
Goodbye nine, this is a new start.
At the bottom again,
Practically invisible to eleven and
twelve.
But why does it matter?
A new chance to start over,
Be myself,
Accept that I'm my own person.
Not changing for eleven,
Not for twelve.
But will they judge me?
by Ella D., Grade 9
 |
| Artwork by Polina G., Grade 9 |
Potato
Chip
When It's late in the
school year,
And during an assembly,
Elementary students get
bored
And hungry
I was definitely hungry
When I saw the potato
chip,
On the auditorium floor,
Which was also our gym
I asked myself three
questions:
Should I take it?
How long has it been
there?
Do I care?
It had probably been there
for a while,
No "three-second
rule" could save it
But that hadn't changed
How it would taste
I guess I didn’t care,
At least not enough
Because when nobody was
looking,
The chip vanished
I doubt I would do that
now,
And you should too
But oh well,
It was a tasty snack
by Michael R., Grade 9
 |
| Artwork by Sabrina E., Grade 9 |
the apology
"i'm sorry." she mutters
it's a small, uttered apology with no rhyme or reason
i continue walking
"it's fine," the response floats up into the air
and sits there for a while before it's gone
no one had even noticed the words above
it takes me a few seconds more to realize, as i look back at
the faint outline
hair flying past others as she scrambles out the door
hands holding books too many for her grasp
i'm almost miles away from her
when I murmur the words
"sorry for what?"
by Alison Z., Grade 9
 |
| Artwork by Rachel C., Grade 9 |
I stumble through the darkness with glass stuck in my skin
I look up to the sky and everything caves in
His B.M.W. set to flames
Thinking what might be his name?
I stumble through the darkness
I know everything will change
I see sirens in the distance
I hear them loud and clear
Relieved to see a medic
But it's the police that I fear
I stumble through the darkness, bloody head to toe
They treat me as a victim-- there's much that they don't know
by Aiden D., Grade 9
No comments:
Post a Comment