Tuesday, May 31, 2022

The Penultimate Post

 Well, the year is not quite over yet.  Look out, world: two posts are coming your way from Sevenatenine in rapid succession.  Here is the first, and our second-to-last (or penultimate) of the year.  We hope you find it wonderful.


Vertigo

I retrace my steps, I try to explain

why the ground feels so hollow, why my head drips with pain

 

hope in my eyes, I stare to the sun

drifting away, in delirium

 

vertigo, oblivion

I'm spinning away

 

rows of houses, endless people;

they rob me of meaning

i can feel their hands

suffocating me

such a random, useless destiny

 

I'm trying to learn to let go

but your words burn like scars

your sympathy lost in undertow

I swallow my heart

 

the world is still on the outside

your words are soft

the wind is soothing

but my mind is screaming

and while the surface shines, the inside rots

 

stuck somewhere between hope and apathy

stuck somewhere between my mind and reality

 

vertigo, oblivion

I'm drifting away

 

chaos surrounds me, whirling

next time, I won't throw it all away

by Liam R., Grade 9


Artwork by Mackenzie J., Grade 7


My Best Friend


The poison in my veins

The sunshine in my day

The right amount of fun

To melt the cold away

The one that somehow plagues me

But heals my wounded soul

My bestest friend ever

That opens my heart of coal


by Ava C., Grade 7


Artwork by Mackenzie J., Grade 7

Six Cents


The troubadour watches from afar

Define my abyss:

 

A walking duplex stutters

Beautiful dreams 

With a limp in his head

Looped and bound

By a stagnant complex

You got six cents where all cars go?

 

 

Nothing’s ever really wrong

When a song ends in a minor key

 

And so I come to isolation


by Jack D., Grade 9



Artwork by Mackenzie J., Grade 7



Regretful Fire


She shouts,

I shout back. 


We're dancing with burning coals. 


My mouth spins

and twists my emotions:

shock lines her face. 

I respond with flames. 


I don't realize it now, 

but I am filled with regret. 


We go our separate ways, quietly. 

No words traverse our burning bridge. 


She returns with hot anger. 


It burns, it stings, and she doesn't relent. 

It hurts me as much as it frustrates me. 


Because deep down, I know she's right. 


by Richard W., Grade 7




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