I,
am an invisible man. restricted, to form, yet free, from pigment, emotion, depth. none can see me. none, can feel me. again and again, I lash out. further and further desperately, trying to grasp, myself. yet, the hand with which I am reaching, Is veiled. through my own, eyes. I, am an invisible, man.
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concealed,
from the world. sheltered, by innocence, by kindness, by purity. yet such a complete destiny, is unattainable. yearning, forever craving prosperity, and peace. in spite of that wish, there are those, standing, in the open. clawing at the ground to grasp, the depth, of their soul. visible, to the world. vulnerable, to guilt, to pain, to impurity. I'd like to dedicate this to a friend.
I never actually knew him. He was a character. In a book. He didn't deserve to die at such a young age. No one deserves to die at 17. He was witty and quick with a response. Careful, dedicated, and loved metaphors. He also loved a girl. You probably don't understand me right now. This is just words to you. Well ficional characters have an impact on lives of everyone who knows them. I am proud to call Augustus Waters one of my friends even though he isn't a real person. But keep in mind... The World Is Not A Wish Granting Factory. Okay? As I look into the beast's eyes
I see anger, sorrow, and hatred I think to myself , Poor soul Derived mad by its own thoughts Then I take one more at it and realize It's me It was just my reflection Every second of every minute of
every hour of everyday, I feel the pain growing stronger and stronger inside of me. Many have suffered, no one has survived For this is a battle you cannot win. You cannot fight it, all you can do is lie back and watch as you lose yourself, Until there's nothing left to save, just an empty shadow, And a trail of broken dreams. running,
falling, stumbling, stalling. sprinting towards it. gleaming white, with red teeth. right, beneath. tumbling, down, down, down. hitting the ground. missed it, dropped, as it flopped. from my hand, like sand. my vision is gone the battle, is lost. leaving my eye, looking glossed. Some days are satisfying
filled with relief and continuity. Others, drown in suspension and longing. One moment of expressions and song leaves one lovestruck and powerless against the stable flow of life and love. Yet no seeker lies between them. Fairness and wishes must not be given... all the time. Observing with anger and wishful thoughts but knowing that the bond can never be broken between two long lasting ropes. Moving on to new beginnings can throw one's mind into haywire, but the fait is not changed. He walked alone, amidst the snow. His grimy bare feet dragged behind, tinged with the sorrow of a deep blue. It was more then just despair now; it was hatred of what had become of his life. It could have been different. The future could have flourished, beckoning to him with open arms. His life could have had meaning, but his hope had been crushed long ago.
He attempted to stare into the window of his past home. At the story he could’ve portrayed. But his pages were blank. None cared of his beginning, or ending. He was met only by a disheveled reflection, as he peered into the window. A greasy unwashed beard hid his face from the world, and a porous hat shielded the rest. Year old paper-thin clothes hid the tarnished skin beneath, caused by years of hatred, regret, sorrow, and resentment. Resentment to the world that turned its back on him, resentment for the one mistake the cost him his job, his house, and his life, and resentment for himself. Again he tried to look through the window, at the life taken so easily from his grasp. Inside was a family, huddled together in a soft blanket, drinking steaming hot chocolate next to a blazing hearth. Flames licked the top of the fireplace, dancing with jubilation. Frozen with grief, he continued to stand, petrified by the complete and utter realization that his life would never change. As his unmovable bare feet collapsed under him, he fell towards his own blanket, one without color. His life story came to his mind, but it was not a tale worth recalling. His crust-covered eyes lay open, as he turned on his back. He wanted his last memory, unlike so many others to be a radiant one. Flecks of white fell against a blackened sky. His mind and eyes laid a daze, as the last of his breathe floated from a lifeless body. Fear
pulses through my body, reaching the depths of my heart. Whiteness fills my eyes, sweet voices and whimpering tones arise from across where I lay Where am I? the idea occurs with No answer. What happened? the memory, Lost. Who am I? I jerk my head up with no identity I find myself, whoever I am, under soft woolen sheets, crystal white walls surround me, trapping me, peoples cries echo from the light wooden door, “You fell off a roof.” The Righteous and The Malevolent
clear water, turbid water flows, no longer flows. radiating the harmony, harmony, the peace, peace. is no more. children play children do not play beside the river, beside the river. they sing, laughter no longer rings they dance, through the meadow. they laugh, footsteps, they drink. fall silent, in the dead grass. flowers blossom in the meadow, the stories are gone. while fantasies vanished, unravel. with the children tales of princes, who once of princesses, spoke of them. of victories, of love. the river forever more, has become the water flows. frostbitten. emanating harmony, no longer and peace. a sense of happiness, no longer the children play emanating harmony, beside the river. or peace. they sing, they dance, children do not play, they laugh, beside the river. they drink the clear, water. |
All work on this page was created by Middle School & High School students. We hope you enjoy reading their amazing poetry, essays, and stories.
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