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10th Grade: '02-'03


more crayon. you can pretend i ment it to be like this, but really the nose was ugly so i cut it off.



poetry



 3/7

Grandma

Each time I see her she is more fragile.
Like a dried out flower, past beauty lost in brittle leaves, parched for
water.
A vase, thinned by age, until it is seemed with minute cracks, to shatter
with a touch.
A used piece of paper, crumpled and thrown unwanted into a corner, only opened
by the sympathetic passerby before being discarded again.


3/7
Car
I stare out the window and try not to look at the seat beside me.
I know if I do, I'll cry.
I can already feel them at the corners of my eyes, hot,
just waiting to get out and burn trails offire down my face.
He says something,
my throat tightens and I clench my teeth, keeping my eyes locked on the passing
cars.
The bright colors waver and blur, like heat waves in the summer.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and a single tear escapes and etches its way down
my cheek.
I try to ignore him, but his soft, understanding words slip into my head
like fingers of smoke.
I bite my lip as his sympathetic voice threatens my grip on sanity,
I tremble on the brink of a chasm of anger and grief,
each syllable eats at my hold on the world,
everything outside the confines of my window dissolves into sand, gritty
leaving me trapped. . . with him.


3/18

Smile
They ask what I think of the war.
War?
My mind is a blank page.
What do I know of war?
A smile.
What do I care of war?
White teeth.
Who?
A name.
What is war?
White and blue suit.
Where is war?
Not here.
I smile and say, I dont know war.

3/28
Silk
hair
spilling down
smooth sleek soft
shining
rivers of gold
liquid silk
scent of honey
taste of sun

3/30
time
Rocks, grey with age.
Tired, slow, old.
Blood grown thick and cold.
Life receding to slow, unheard heartbeat.
Worn with the passing of ages.

Sleep deeply, waiting to awake.

4/1

Pink
pink shiny nails
lacquered plastic fake
cover hide emotion
hard shell separate
from outside world


4/8

Smiles
She stands by the cold pole,
clutching it to her like a silver umbilical,
swaying with the movement of the strange metal beast,
swallowed with so many others.
She carefully scans the sea of faces, searching for a pair of friendly eyes.
Kind eyes, knowing warm eyes.
But all she sees are cold ones.
Cold and bright, with too white smiles,
eyes that try to catch her,
reach out and grab her and pull her in,
so they can pick over her slim white bones at their leisure.

Dedicated to Hollen


4/14
Fire and Ice
Why can't you feel my pain?
It's killing me.
Tears fall from the sky,
they burn with sorrow.
My moon has faded,
im crying in the dark.
I clutch your laughter,
it crumbles in my hand.


4/26
Tired
tired of the blood and tears
tired of the pain and sorrow
tired of a wold that closes its eyes
tired of trying and working and loving and giving and hating and hurting
tired of living

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