Phlebotomy, Take My Blood, by Alexander Lam-Gaudet (11) - Full
The spraypaint lies thick on my skin, tallied from broken words and hurtful promises. I hate the way you spin me, but reluctant to relieve it. I itch
and itch
and itch
and itch.
Why can’t you get out?
I take myself for a fool, wasting a word for you. I bet you’re laughing. I bet you’re aching. Please let me love normally in my shallow body, your gracious being. Let me, quotefully. It’s sweet blood, dirty from you. The needle doesn’t feel good anymore, what if it was something poisonous? I can’t keep my muscles away.
You’re raw. If I took a piece of you, would you fall apart? Guts, and love, and all. I look for you through the glass, eyes nervous, body aching.
I’m sensitive. If you took a piece of me, could I withstand you? I can’t look, you’re devastatingly real.
How could you make a woman like her? With her bones and her teeth and her need to bite, it’s no wonder you’ve ended up eaten. I can’t stand her eyes, face, her words or just her. And for the sake of gender, I’ll borrow my secrets in blind empathy, just for someone who’s out of reach.
So I hold my truths to you, if you will, I wonder if you’ll look at my colours the way I dream about yours, torn into your skin. You’re a possessive and captivating disease, no medicine can treat what this illness has left.
Look for me in the words you read, as I do, so I can love poems like love poems. With you, my words are wrong and I can’t speak the way you look. For context, I truthfully didn’t look at you properly. Blind, when given the right words, unstrung and unloved.
and itch
and itch
and itch.
Why can’t you get out?
I take myself for a fool, wasting a word for you. I bet you’re laughing. I bet you’re aching. Please let me love normally in my shallow body, your gracious being. Let me, quotefully. It’s sweet blood, dirty from you. The needle doesn’t feel good anymore, what if it was something poisonous? I can’t keep my muscles away.
You’re raw. If I took a piece of you, would you fall apart? Guts, and love, and all. I look for you through the glass, eyes nervous, body aching.
I’m sensitive. If you took a piece of me, could I withstand you? I can’t look, you’re devastatingly real.
How could you make a woman like her? With her bones and her teeth and her need to bite, it’s no wonder you’ve ended up eaten. I can’t stand her eyes, face, her words or just her. And for the sake of gender, I’ll borrow my secrets in blind empathy, just for someone who’s out of reach.
So I hold my truths to you, if you will, I wonder if you’ll look at my colours the way I dream about yours, torn into your skin. You’re a possessive and captivating disease, no medicine can treat what this illness has left.
Look for me in the words you read, as I do, so I can love poems like love poems. With you, my words are wrong and I can’t speak the way you look. For context, I truthfully didn’t look at you properly. Blind, when given the right words, unstrung and unloved.
Evil eyes, by Nina Jones (9) - Full
I'm not quite sure where to look
"Look at me when I'm talking to you"
You say
"Don't give me that look"
You say
And so I close my evil eyes
I retreat
I'm not quite sure where to look
I'm on the bus
People surround my seat
Give them each a glance
Maybe a smile
Let them know
That you are more than your evil eyes
Let them know
That you are kind
I'm not quite sure where to look
Because I think that you can see it
In my eyes
They say that you see someone's eyes
And you see their soul too
But if your eyes are evil
How evil are you?
I'm not quite sure where to look
You gave me these evil eyes
And now I'm too scared to see
Can't look down
Can't look up
I close my eyes
So I may not be evil
But
I am blind
Just as you've taught me to be.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you"
You say
"Don't give me that look"
You say
And so I close my evil eyes
I retreat
I'm not quite sure where to look
I'm on the bus
People surround my seat
Give them each a glance
Maybe a smile
Let them know
That you are more than your evil eyes
Let them know
That you are kind
I'm not quite sure where to look
Because I think that you can see it
In my eyes
They say that you see someone's eyes
And you see their soul too
But if your eyes are evil
How evil are you?
I'm not quite sure where to look
You gave me these evil eyes
And now I'm too scared to see
Can't look down
Can't look up
I close my eyes
So I may not be evil
But
I am blind
Just as you've taught me to be.
Smokey Haze, by Theia Taylor (9) - Full
At the end of sixth grade, I went to the eye doctor with my mum and my brother. When they put the plastic spoon over my left eye, I could see perfectly, maybe even better than perfectly— then they put it over my right eye, and the world turned into a smoky haze. I couldn’t even read the largest of the letters.
I didn’t buy glasses immediately; my right eye was doing so well I could make it through class, sports, and life in general. It was only when her edges started to fade, when I couldn’t tell if the upturn of her lips was sweet or malicious, that I decided I needed them.
I could make her out then— sitting in the corner of our math class, sharing a slushie on the curb, the way she smiled at those boys, the malicious twinkle in her dark eyes. She wasn’t soft edges, like my sight had betrayed. She was sharp, so much so that she could cut through a human heart. She had dried blood along the outline of her body, but in the smoky haze that I spent most of my time in, it blended in with her smooth skin and lacy tank tops.
I had my glasses on the day she screwed me over. I didn’t have my glasses on when I was sleeping in bed beside her, forgiving her. I had my glasses on when I stopped speaking to her.
I have a tendency to think about her late at night, incoherently watching the ceiling fan spin. When I speak of her to others, maliciously, spitting her acid back on them, I’m wearing those same glasses. But in the darkness, eyes about to flutter shut, I think about her like she’s a tender, sweet, supple thing, apple Eve was never supposed to bite into. The smoke stings my eyes and my throat, obscuring me from her cruelty.
Nowadays, whenever I’ve spent too much time with someone, loved them for too long, when I notice their edges have started to blur— I make another appointment with the eye doctor. Then I can slip my glasses back on (new lenses, but the same rose-gold frames), and watch as the world and all its cruelty come back into focus.
I slip them on, and I know my worth again.
I didn’t buy glasses immediately; my right eye was doing so well I could make it through class, sports, and life in general. It was only when her edges started to fade, when I couldn’t tell if the upturn of her lips was sweet or malicious, that I decided I needed them.
I could make her out then— sitting in the corner of our math class, sharing a slushie on the curb, the way she smiled at those boys, the malicious twinkle in her dark eyes. She wasn’t soft edges, like my sight had betrayed. She was sharp, so much so that she could cut through a human heart. She had dried blood along the outline of her body, but in the smoky haze that I spent most of my time in, it blended in with her smooth skin and lacy tank tops.
I had my glasses on the day she screwed me over. I didn’t have my glasses on when I was sleeping in bed beside her, forgiving her. I had my glasses on when I stopped speaking to her.
I have a tendency to think about her late at night, incoherently watching the ceiling fan spin. When I speak of her to others, maliciously, spitting her acid back on them, I’m wearing those same glasses. But in the darkness, eyes about to flutter shut, I think about her like she’s a tender, sweet, supple thing, apple Eve was never supposed to bite into. The smoke stings my eyes and my throat, obscuring me from her cruelty.
Nowadays, whenever I’ve spent too much time with someone, loved them for too long, when I notice their edges have started to blur— I make another appointment with the eye doctor. Then I can slip my glasses back on (new lenses, but the same rose-gold frames), and watch as the world and all its cruelty come back into focus.
I slip them on, and I know my worth again.
blinded by your shine, by Anamika Dave (10) - Full
missing you is what I will do
for the rest of my youth
blinded by your shine,
the act you put on for everyone
in every life l will forget what you did,
unknowingly & blissfully
slip back into your shine
to bask in the warmth.
you will be my sun for eternity,
and I will welcome the burns
I will forever stand too close
and observe too much
and be hurt by what I should’ve known not to do
I will turn a blind eye towards your faults
just to be able to linger in your ray of light for just a moment longer,
to catch your eye for a second more,
to have your attention,
just on me,
and I will heal myself in your gleam.
All of the hurt I gain,
and all of the burns will be mended when I show up in your sight.
I will forget the dark you caused once you left,
I will forget the way I felt when my eyes couldn’t see without your glimmer for the first time,
I will forgive the way you disappeared from my life in a flash
and the way you didn’t seem to care.
all for your warmth.
all for the second, I will wait for eternity.
I will sit here in the pitch dark
and the cold until my limbs become black
and my eyelashes grow icicles,
awaiting the day you turn your incandescent and forever-contagious light towards me.
for the rest of my youth
blinded by your shine,
the act you put on for everyone
in every life l will forget what you did,
unknowingly & blissfully
slip back into your shine
to bask in the warmth.
you will be my sun for eternity,
and I will welcome the burns
I will forever stand too close
and observe too much
and be hurt by what I should’ve known not to do
I will turn a blind eye towards your faults
just to be able to linger in your ray of light for just a moment longer,
to catch your eye for a second more,
to have your attention,
just on me,
and I will heal myself in your gleam.
All of the hurt I gain,
and all of the burns will be mended when I show up in your sight.
I will forget the dark you caused once you left,
I will forget the way I felt when my eyes couldn’t see without your glimmer for the first time,
I will forgive the way you disappeared from my life in a flash
and the way you didn’t seem to care.
all for your warmth.
all for the second, I will wait for eternity.
I will sit here in the pitch dark
and the cold until my limbs become black
and my eyelashes grow icicles,
awaiting the day you turn your incandescent and forever-contagious light towards me.
Haunted By You, by Suda Sivakumar (10) - Full
You were never mine to hold, but I let myself believe you were
All the times I lay awake at night, I wondered if you ever cared
Now all I’m left with are the memories I can’t escape and all the echoes in my head
I could taste the bitterness in my mouth, I could feel the heaviness in my chest and the tears that sprung beneath my eye when I saw your face again
After All, I learned, you weren’t blind to how I made you feel, you chose to blind yourself, you chose not to understand me
You selfishly stole everything I had to give
You manipulated the love and effort I would’ve put into us without a thought
You starved me with the affection you gave and took away, making a river out of my eyes from the harshness of your words, and why did this upset me?
I set a standard to who I thought you were, my heart a reflection of everything you’ve ever told me
If you cared about me, really ever looked into my eyes a second longer you could see the world of indecision and you could see just how much you fractured my heart, just how much you pulled me along, tug on my heartstrings until they snapped in half
You waited until everything healed, my heart, my mind, my happiness and then you took the air clean out of my lungs and kept it for yourself so you could breathe better at night
Like a tree, I stopped myself from growing to make room for your branches, only for you to spread all over me, making it a mess to untangle
We were melted into each other coming out engraved with the other’s innocence
But even after everything my pen will still linger a little longer on the letters of your name, I will write and i’ll feel a little more connected to you, through the only way I know how to keep you alive with me
Sometimes I find myself saying things you used to say, I am a living breathing embodiment of you, or rather the person you used to be when you were with me
But it wasn’t just the memories I found you in, it was the smell that lingered on the autumn leaves, it was green hoodies and the candy you used to eat
At one point you were the only person I felt seen by and maybe that’s what I'm so attached to, not the person but rather the feeling
If I could take it back I wouldn't, I could never, ‘cause the memories we shared are some that I’ll cherish forever
The memories with you are worth the pain of reminiscing
I can’t stop finding you in everything, the reflection in windows, every shadow in the dark, every song that reminds me of you
You live nowhere and every single place all at once
The one way you physically stay alive with me
I blind myself and I live through the memories I can barely reach and the person that blinded my perception of who to be
All the times I lay awake at night, I wondered if you ever cared
Now all I’m left with are the memories I can’t escape and all the echoes in my head
I could taste the bitterness in my mouth, I could feel the heaviness in my chest and the tears that sprung beneath my eye when I saw your face again
After All, I learned, you weren’t blind to how I made you feel, you chose to blind yourself, you chose not to understand me
You selfishly stole everything I had to give
You manipulated the love and effort I would’ve put into us without a thought
You starved me with the affection you gave and took away, making a river out of my eyes from the harshness of your words, and why did this upset me?
I set a standard to who I thought you were, my heart a reflection of everything you’ve ever told me
If you cared about me, really ever looked into my eyes a second longer you could see the world of indecision and you could see just how much you fractured my heart, just how much you pulled me along, tug on my heartstrings until they snapped in half
You waited until everything healed, my heart, my mind, my happiness and then you took the air clean out of my lungs and kept it for yourself so you could breathe better at night
Like a tree, I stopped myself from growing to make room for your branches, only for you to spread all over me, making it a mess to untangle
We were melted into each other coming out engraved with the other’s innocence
But even after everything my pen will still linger a little longer on the letters of your name, I will write and i’ll feel a little more connected to you, through the only way I know how to keep you alive with me
Sometimes I find myself saying things you used to say, I am a living breathing embodiment of you, or rather the person you used to be when you were with me
But it wasn’t just the memories I found you in, it was the smell that lingered on the autumn leaves, it was green hoodies and the candy you used to eat
At one point you were the only person I felt seen by and maybe that’s what I'm so attached to, not the person but rather the feeling
If I could take it back I wouldn't, I could never, ‘cause the memories we shared are some that I’ll cherish forever
The memories with you are worth the pain of reminiscing
I can’t stop finding you in everything, the reflection in windows, every shadow in the dark, every song that reminds me of you
You live nowhere and every single place all at once
The one way you physically stay alive with me
I blind myself and I live through the memories I can barely reach and the person that blinded my perception of who to be
Dear Evran, by Zachary Atchison (9) - Full
Dear Evran,
I’ve given a lot of thought to what you asked me the night I left. And I’ve made up my mind, so here it is.
Do I think what we had was a game? I’m not sure. Believe me, I’ve spent hours pondering that last question of yours, trying to make some goddamn sense of it. A game; often competitive, always crafted to entertain. Was that what our relationship was? Was that what it was to you? You never tell me these things. You never did.
I broke up with you because you weren’t in love with me. Not really. I think you took my love and you ran with it, hoarding it within your heart to take the place of peace that was never there. You mistook your zeal for loyalty, and your lust for affection. In doing so, you made me believe that my loyalty and affection were returned. In believing so, I was an idiot, to say the absolute least.
And I’m done being that idiot. I’m done being used to fill the gaping hole in your chest. I’ve always had too much love to give, and your capacity for it is bottomless. So instead of mutual, requited love, our so-called relationship was just a never-ending cycle of me pouring my heart out into yours.
In all honesty? I thought that was how it was supposed to work. It was how it worked for us, if you can say it ever worked at all. You were my outlet, and I was your vitality. In the last few months of our relationship, I came to realize that wasn’t healthy. We were never partners who took and gave at the same time, like couples are supposed to; love was a drug, and I was merely your dealer.
So I have to ask; did my name ever mean anything to you? Did the sound of it fill you with longing, or just a vague feeling of recognition? Did you stay up late into the night, as I did, wondering why I wouldn’t answer your calls? Of course you didn’t. You didn’t, because I was always there for you even when you weren’t for me. I let you sink your teeth into me and drain me of sympathy.
Maybe you needed that. Maybe my love was what you needed to recover, to grow into a better person; something more than the bruised and battered kid you always told me you were.
To you, I was the epitome of constant. A poster child for mental stability. That only proves how well you’d isolated yourself from other people; in the presence of no one else, of course I was the optimal partner. But I wasn’t perfect then, and I’m not now. You just saw me with rose-tinted glasses, and I can only hope you one day find the courage to crush them under your heel.
Maybe on that day you’d finally come to understand that you’re not damaged goods, and I’m not a backstabber. That love is a nuanced and infuriating labyrinth, and our compasses find their north in different directions. You’d understand, then, why I bothered writing you this letter. You’d understand why you weren’t home when I delivered it.
Until that day, I’m afraid all I can do is wish you well. So that’s what I’ll do.
Good luck,
June
I’ve given a lot of thought to what you asked me the night I left. And I’ve made up my mind, so here it is.
Do I think what we had was a game? I’m not sure. Believe me, I’ve spent hours pondering that last question of yours, trying to make some goddamn sense of it. A game; often competitive, always crafted to entertain. Was that what our relationship was? Was that what it was to you? You never tell me these things. You never did.
I broke up with you because you weren’t in love with me. Not really. I think you took my love and you ran with it, hoarding it within your heart to take the place of peace that was never there. You mistook your zeal for loyalty, and your lust for affection. In doing so, you made me believe that my loyalty and affection were returned. In believing so, I was an idiot, to say the absolute least.
And I’m done being that idiot. I’m done being used to fill the gaping hole in your chest. I’ve always had too much love to give, and your capacity for it is bottomless. So instead of mutual, requited love, our so-called relationship was just a never-ending cycle of me pouring my heart out into yours.
In all honesty? I thought that was how it was supposed to work. It was how it worked for us, if you can say it ever worked at all. You were my outlet, and I was your vitality. In the last few months of our relationship, I came to realize that wasn’t healthy. We were never partners who took and gave at the same time, like couples are supposed to; love was a drug, and I was merely your dealer.
So I have to ask; did my name ever mean anything to you? Did the sound of it fill you with longing, or just a vague feeling of recognition? Did you stay up late into the night, as I did, wondering why I wouldn’t answer your calls? Of course you didn’t. You didn’t, because I was always there for you even when you weren’t for me. I let you sink your teeth into me and drain me of sympathy.
Maybe you needed that. Maybe my love was what you needed to recover, to grow into a better person; something more than the bruised and battered kid you always told me you were.
To you, I was the epitome of constant. A poster child for mental stability. That only proves how well you’d isolated yourself from other people; in the presence of no one else, of course I was the optimal partner. But I wasn’t perfect then, and I’m not now. You just saw me with rose-tinted glasses, and I can only hope you one day find the courage to crush them under your heel.
Maybe on that day you’d finally come to understand that you’re not damaged goods, and I’m not a backstabber. That love is a nuanced and infuriating labyrinth, and our compasses find their north in different directions. You’d understand, then, why I bothered writing you this letter. You’d understand why you weren’t home when I delivered it.
Until that day, I’m afraid all I can do is wish you well. So that’s what I’ll do.
Good luck,
June
Boxed Expression, by Devin Caguioa (9) - Full
I wake at the crack of dawn every morning, the obnoxious ring from my phone awakening my unconscious state. I reach for my phone that buzzed on my nightstand, not wanting to wake up just yet. Despite my yearning to laze in my fluff bed the whole day, I begrudgingly sat up. I look at myself in the mirror across me, the orange lights peeking through the window, brightening my blond locks with the faint warmth. I slowly swing my legs to the edge of my mattress, shuffling out of bed. My feet make contact with the chilly floor and I drag my feet across the wooden planks. In my half-asleep state, I manage to find the bathroom. My face was caked up with makeup I left on last night, only being able to make out the blur of a bold, red lipstick smear and the blinding, white highlight on the tip of my nose. I wash my face, rubbing off every molecule of makeup that could be easily removed with just a sprinkle of water. I then apply my makeup remover to a cotton pad and wipe the mascara from my lashes, the vivid violet that rested on my eyelids, the smeared lipstick that nearly stained my mouth. I wasn’t proud of myself for it. I wanted that smooth porcelain skin that everyone else wore proudly on themselves. My face felt light after removing all the chemicals, knowing that I’d eventually have to put it on all over again before I go to school. I stare at myself in the mirror, ashamed of the person I’ve become before shutting the lights and exiting the bathroom, continuing with my linear routine for the day.
I walk into school with my mask, keeping my head up high as I stride down the halls. A feigned smile tugs up my lips; my cheeks ache with pain as I bare my teeth to the faceless students. I spot a few of my friends chatting down the hall and I shyly wave as I approach them. They were talking about the most bland of things. The weather, skincare routines, gossip – it didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to talk about the social injustices around the world, how being normal is weirder than being weird, shitty romcoms that were probably made on a twenty dollar budget. The whole school would have me in shambles by the end of the day if I dared to peep a single thought from my mouth. They’d savage me like untamed lions. My friends chat to each other as we waltz down the hall towards our first period. I automatically tuned out their meaningless chatter, a certain sound catching my ear. I stop in my tracks as I hear a squeak from the room I nearly skipped by. I whip my head towards the crack of the door before the person begins to play a soft melody once more. I peep into the crevice. My eyes landed on a girl whose hair was a freakish, unnatural colour, heavy eyeliner, and a maximalist outfit. She was playing the clarinet so beautifully, her fingers pressing on the keys so delicately. Her performance abruptly ended with the chime of the school bell. I gasped, choking up air before dashing sneakily off to class. This was rather absurd behaviour from someone who’s so perfect.
The crunch from my sandwich could be heard as I quietly ate in the school bathroom. Don’t get me wrong; I loved my friends. It ‘s just that their empty words couldn’t be handed for longer than ten minutes. I looked absolutely disheveled like a rundown doll. My smile dropped as I nonchalantly consumed the sandwich. I was mindlessly scrolling through social media hoping it would kill time, but that barely helped with my sheer boredom. Every photo I came upon, I could just tell how free other people felt. Hair others have chopped off themselves, the clothing they picky selectively choose from their closet, the accessories that weren’t just simple, thin gold or silver necklaces and rings. Their smiles gave away how happy they truly felt. I threw my head against the concrete wall, holding in an annoyed groan. The world felt so unfair suddenly. I wish I could express myself in such a carefree manner. Tears well up in my eyes as my dull irises flicker up to the ceiling. I cautiously wipe the tears from the waterlines, not wanting to smudge my makeup just yet. Just a few more hours. Just a few more hours.
That moment of that girl playing the clarinet earlier today washed back to my mind as I arrived back home. As soon as the click from the front door was heard, I swung the door open, entering in and grabbing my keys before removing my shoes. As I put my shoes down onto the shoe rack, my eyes catch a neon green pair of shoes. They had beads with the colours of the rainbow inserted in them. I gently place my white, stainless shoes while I reminisce back onto the past, when I used to wear them. My bag heaved on my back as I brought it upstairs with me. As I approached the second floor, there were a few picture frames hung up. They all showcased different fashion styles I tried on over the course of my teenage years, which would be ending in only a few months from now. My past self was so confident and proud of what I wanted to wear. I’ve only decided to go back to a simple style to prevent the unaccepting glances and comments I received in the halls. The hallways which I used to look at my feet, rather than lifting my head and showing a feigned sense of interest to the monotonous conversations. I eventually reached my room after spending wasted time over nostalgic memories, shutting the door behind me and placing my bag beside my desk as I flop into bed. My arms reach for one of my pillows as I tightly clutched the plush feeling. My blond hair covers my face as the dark, evening sky begins to settle in. I hate lying straight to people’s faces about who I am as a person.
It’s unbelievable I’d go this far to help myself survive. But, whatever it takes to make it through one final school year, right?
I walk into school with my mask, keeping my head up high as I stride down the halls. A feigned smile tugs up my lips; my cheeks ache with pain as I bare my teeth to the faceless students. I spot a few of my friends chatting down the hall and I shyly wave as I approach them. They were talking about the most bland of things. The weather, skincare routines, gossip – it didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to talk about the social injustices around the world, how being normal is weirder than being weird, shitty romcoms that were probably made on a twenty dollar budget. The whole school would have me in shambles by the end of the day if I dared to peep a single thought from my mouth. They’d savage me like untamed lions. My friends chat to each other as we waltz down the hall towards our first period. I automatically tuned out their meaningless chatter, a certain sound catching my ear. I stop in my tracks as I hear a squeak from the room I nearly skipped by. I whip my head towards the crack of the door before the person begins to play a soft melody once more. I peep into the crevice. My eyes landed on a girl whose hair was a freakish, unnatural colour, heavy eyeliner, and a maximalist outfit. She was playing the clarinet so beautifully, her fingers pressing on the keys so delicately. Her performance abruptly ended with the chime of the school bell. I gasped, choking up air before dashing sneakily off to class. This was rather absurd behaviour from someone who’s so perfect.
The crunch from my sandwich could be heard as I quietly ate in the school bathroom. Don’t get me wrong; I loved my friends. It ‘s just that their empty words couldn’t be handed for longer than ten minutes. I looked absolutely disheveled like a rundown doll. My smile dropped as I nonchalantly consumed the sandwich. I was mindlessly scrolling through social media hoping it would kill time, but that barely helped with my sheer boredom. Every photo I came upon, I could just tell how free other people felt. Hair others have chopped off themselves, the clothing they picky selectively choose from their closet, the accessories that weren’t just simple, thin gold or silver necklaces and rings. Their smiles gave away how happy they truly felt. I threw my head against the concrete wall, holding in an annoyed groan. The world felt so unfair suddenly. I wish I could express myself in such a carefree manner. Tears well up in my eyes as my dull irises flicker up to the ceiling. I cautiously wipe the tears from the waterlines, not wanting to smudge my makeup just yet. Just a few more hours. Just a few more hours.
That moment of that girl playing the clarinet earlier today washed back to my mind as I arrived back home. As soon as the click from the front door was heard, I swung the door open, entering in and grabbing my keys before removing my shoes. As I put my shoes down onto the shoe rack, my eyes catch a neon green pair of shoes. They had beads with the colours of the rainbow inserted in them. I gently place my white, stainless shoes while I reminisce back onto the past, when I used to wear them. My bag heaved on my back as I brought it upstairs with me. As I approached the second floor, there were a few picture frames hung up. They all showcased different fashion styles I tried on over the course of my teenage years, which would be ending in only a few months from now. My past self was so confident and proud of what I wanted to wear. I’ve only decided to go back to a simple style to prevent the unaccepting glances and comments I received in the halls. The hallways which I used to look at my feet, rather than lifting my head and showing a feigned sense of interest to the monotonous conversations. I eventually reached my room after spending wasted time over nostalgic memories, shutting the door behind me and placing my bag beside my desk as I flop into bed. My arms reach for one of my pillows as I tightly clutched the plush feeling. My blond hair covers my face as the dark, evening sky begins to settle in. I hate lying straight to people’s faces about who I am as a person.
It’s unbelievable I’d go this far to help myself survive. But, whatever it takes to make it through one final school year, right?
Pulling The Strings, by Suda Sivakumar (10) - Full
Marilyn and Nicolas were childhood friends. As they grew up together, Marilyn had developed feelings and wanted their friendship to become more, so she let Nicolas string her along. Over the years, they let time pull them apart, however, one day Nicolas reaches out to meet up and talk. After hearing all of Nicolas’ excuses as to why he had given her this false hope making her feel crazy, she finally let her emotions out.
Are you serious? I took every emotion and every feeling I had for granted until I couldn’t feel anything for anyone at all. I never thought I would let anyone have that kind of power over me, be constantly on the forefront of my mind. But you were always the exception. Nico, I feel like someone I can hardly recognize, (breath) you made me into this person. I was blinded by all the red flags, everything in my head telling me to turn the other way and run (breath)but I gave into my emotions and I let myself feel for you
After years of being strung along, I finally decided to numb all the feelings I had toward you. I blocked out all the memories we made, forgot all the jokes we shared and all the fights we had. Everything ugly mixed with everything beautiful. (Long pause) But I moved on past you, months had passed and I numbed you. I tried to act as if you never even existed, but while everything else could be erased, every mention of your name still rang in my ears and echoed for far too long to assure me down to my core, I could never be over you.
Hearing all these stories about you, your name still felt warm on my lips, but it tasted bitter on my mouth knowing you were living a life without me. (Pause) I know that might be selfish, but I knew I wouldn’t reach out because I could never hurt you like that, (breath) no matter how angry I ever got at you, I could never do what you did to me.
When I saw you for the first time since no contact, you walked passed me like I was nothing to you, like we never stayed awake past 3 'o'clock in the morning calling and laughing, like we didn’t share our deepest darkest secrets pretending like the world would be over if they ever got out, (pause) like we trusted each other. (Long Pause) When I pass by your house, I linger a little longer hoping you’d come out. Since seeing you, I couldn't get your face out of my head.
Months have passed since and I thought I moved on. I found my peace; but then one night you reached out; and everything, all the memories came flooding back. (Pause) After all this time, even after being in a constant wars of unfollowing and refollowing each other. (Long pause) It’ll always be you. No matter how many times I try to move on. Even at night when I should shut my eyes, when I should think of other people. All I can see is your face and all I can ever feel is your touch. But it’s not real, it's just your ghost, and it will always be the blindness I let myself feel for you.
Are you serious? I took every emotion and every feeling I had for granted until I couldn’t feel anything for anyone at all. I never thought I would let anyone have that kind of power over me, be constantly on the forefront of my mind. But you were always the exception. Nico, I feel like someone I can hardly recognize, (breath) you made me into this person. I was blinded by all the red flags, everything in my head telling me to turn the other way and run (breath)but I gave into my emotions and I let myself feel for you
After years of being strung along, I finally decided to numb all the feelings I had toward you. I blocked out all the memories we made, forgot all the jokes we shared and all the fights we had. Everything ugly mixed with everything beautiful. (Long pause) But I moved on past you, months had passed and I numbed you. I tried to act as if you never even existed, but while everything else could be erased, every mention of your name still rang in my ears and echoed for far too long to assure me down to my core, I could never be over you.
Hearing all these stories about you, your name still felt warm on my lips, but it tasted bitter on my mouth knowing you were living a life without me. (Pause) I know that might be selfish, but I knew I wouldn’t reach out because I could never hurt you like that, (breath) no matter how angry I ever got at you, I could never do what you did to me.
When I saw you for the first time since no contact, you walked passed me like I was nothing to you, like we never stayed awake past 3 'o'clock in the morning calling and laughing, like we didn’t share our deepest darkest secrets pretending like the world would be over if they ever got out, (pause) like we trusted each other. (Long Pause) When I pass by your house, I linger a little longer hoping you’d come out. Since seeing you, I couldn't get your face out of my head.
Months have passed since and I thought I moved on. I found my peace; but then one night you reached out; and everything, all the memories came flooding back. (Pause) After all this time, even after being in a constant wars of unfollowing and refollowing each other. (Long pause) It’ll always be you. No matter how many times I try to move on. Even at night when I should shut my eyes, when I should think of other people. All I can see is your face and all I can ever feel is your touch. But it’s not real, it's just your ghost, and it will always be the blindness I let myself feel for you.
Painted skies and coloured seas, by Kira Hunter (10) - Full
My life was black and white, colour drained
Blinded to the beauty of the world
A black and white movie
Life tinted shades of gray
A colouring book waiting for someone to bring it to life
Someone did,
A stranger came along, filling in the gaps
Colouring in the spaces(the pages), shining a light upon the darkness that was my world
Once more i saw,
Painted skies and coloured seas,
The shine of the stars above
The red of the cold flush in your cheeks
Brightness and life(color) filled up the gray
Lighter times(days) born out of darker days(ones),
The beautiful lies the stranger would speak
I would cry through the night as the colours would seep,
Out of their pages, running down my skin
My life began going gray again
Then you'd smile at me and colour the space,
Spaces where id watch your colour drain away
Painted in streaks, covered in water marks,
Tear stained body, rain covered my world
Then the sun would come out mark it all up
Your brush paints the gaps and i know i'm enough
You paint me colors and take me away
Bit by bit you rip out my heart
Cutting at the strings, staining me with water marks
Did you color me in just to drain me once more?
Leaving me stuck in the unknown
Where the seas are empty and the skies are dark
But with that look in your eyes you do it again
I search for the love of that beautiful stranger
Blind without your presence,
But if you painted my skies drew all my seas,
Was it true colours, or merely what you made me believe,
Leave me to my lonesome, let the colours run out,
Coat my body with stains
I’m gray inside and out
Give me that look, just a glance from your eyes
The colour returns but I know it's all lies
Hold me tight for the moment blind me from the world
A world you created,
One I believed true
Blinded I know but I can't break through,
My world will go gray dark and dull once again
I'll paint it on my own draw over the stains
Wiping all memories of you away,
Because the sea isn't pink and the clouds aren't green,
I'll let it come back as all my colour seeps
Blinded by the light, colours you swore were true
You painted my world, but blinded it too
Blinded to the beauty of the world
A black and white movie
Life tinted shades of gray
A colouring book waiting for someone to bring it to life
Someone did,
A stranger came along, filling in the gaps
Colouring in the spaces(the pages), shining a light upon the darkness that was my world
Once more i saw,
Painted skies and coloured seas,
The shine of the stars above
The red of the cold flush in your cheeks
Brightness and life(color) filled up the gray
Lighter times(days) born out of darker days(ones),
The beautiful lies the stranger would speak
I would cry through the night as the colours would seep,
Out of their pages, running down my skin
My life began going gray again
Then you'd smile at me and colour the space,
Spaces where id watch your colour drain away
Painted in streaks, covered in water marks,
Tear stained body, rain covered my world
Then the sun would come out mark it all up
Your brush paints the gaps and i know i'm enough
You paint me colors and take me away
Bit by bit you rip out my heart
Cutting at the strings, staining me with water marks
Did you color me in just to drain me once more?
Leaving me stuck in the unknown
Where the seas are empty and the skies are dark
But with that look in your eyes you do it again
I search for the love of that beautiful stranger
Blind without your presence,
But if you painted my skies drew all my seas,
Was it true colours, or merely what you made me believe,
Leave me to my lonesome, let the colours run out,
Coat my body with stains
I’m gray inside and out
Give me that look, just a glance from your eyes
The colour returns but I know it's all lies
Hold me tight for the moment blind me from the world
A world you created,
One I believed true
Blinded I know but I can't break through,
My world will go gray dark and dull once again
I'll paint it on my own draw over the stains
Wiping all memories of you away,
Because the sea isn't pink and the clouds aren't green,
I'll let it come back as all my colour seeps
Blinded by the light, colours you swore were true
You painted my world, but blinded it too
Untitled, by Madeline Finney (10) - Full
(Stammers) I never really noticed what was happening with her. Not necessarily what was happening with her, because it was all she talked about, but what was happening with her to me. (beat) Does that make sense? I don’t know if it does. I mean, if it doesn’t then that’s really the least of my worries. I try not to think about it too much but it seems to be all I can think, talk, and write about. She’s everywhere; I don’t think you get it. I try so hard to block her out and ignore her but every little thing that she does irritates me. Either that or I have to know everything that’s happening because I can’t let it go. I can’t just forget that she exists, no matter how hard I try. I see her daily and it’s horrible. (sighs) I don’t really know how to put it in perspective. I guess it’s kind of equivalent to when you watch a movie, or just find out about something completely random but then you see it all over. You see it online, in person, people start talking about it. You can’t escape it. That’s what she’s like. It’s like… when you had braces and had elastics and thought you could celebrate because, finally, they’re gone! But then you keep finding them in random places. And again, just like her, I try to ignore the elastics because I’m too lazy to pick them up, or in her case, turn a blind eye, but they keep showing up—she keeps showing up. I didn’t ever know what to do. I didn’t know if I should talk to her or totally stay ignorant to how she was treating me because I always thought that her problems were more important than mine. And it’s not even like I didn’t like being her friend—she was my best friend, which made it so much worse. It’s more of how being her friend was. I couldn’t give her real opinions and when I would reflect her actions on how she treated me back to her, suddenly I’m the problem and everything is my fault and I’m too negative or I’m-I’m just… (stammers) I don’t know! I’m just something bad. (takes deep breath) And like I get that yeah, I could’ve hurt her feelings, I probably did honestly, but she couldn’t handle being treated how she was treating me. I don’t see how that’s my fault. I know now that ignoring what she did and only thinking of the good parts made me gain so much resentment, and I should’ve talked to her more. I should’ve not done to her what she did to me. But should I really be taking the blame for it?
the stranger I once knew By Anamika Dave (10)
I will be forced to act unknowingly
to your secrets, to your aspirations
taught to act stoic in your presence
act blind to you, act blind when it comes to the things I know about you
I must pretend like I don't know how you look in the mornings,
how you hate comparisons,
your process of writing,
your favorite dress,
your favorite artists and your favorite album.
Act as if I don't know the small details and the bigger pictures.
So when we pass in the hallways,
or say congratulations to each other’s achievements,
or say goodbye at graduation,
I will be blind to the fact that you are a stranger I once knew inside and out, with details, irrelevant and not
I will turn a blind eye to the fact that we once promised that we would never be this way,
promised to never act this small in each other's presence.
I will persistently remember the promises we made at 14,
and how we broke them in such massive waves of hurt.
I will forever remember how twisted our last moments were,
and how the only possible way to be happy in the end,
was to become no one to each other again;
to become strangers
but I hope you always know,
a part of me will always love you, stranger
to your secrets, to your aspirations
taught to act stoic in your presence
act blind to you, act blind when it comes to the things I know about you
I must pretend like I don't know how you look in the mornings,
how you hate comparisons,
your process of writing,
your favorite dress,
your favorite artists and your favorite album.
Act as if I don't know the small details and the bigger pictures.
So when we pass in the hallways,
or say congratulations to each other’s achievements,
or say goodbye at graduation,
I will be blind to the fact that you are a stranger I once knew inside and out, with details, irrelevant and not
I will turn a blind eye to the fact that we once promised that we would never be this way,
promised to never act this small in each other's presence.
I will persistently remember the promises we made at 14,
and how we broke them in such massive waves of hurt.
I will forever remember how twisted our last moments were,
and how the only possible way to be happy in the end,
was to become no one to each other again;
to become strangers
but I hope you always know,
a part of me will always love you, stranger
The path through the woods, by Kira Hunter (10) - Full
I follow him down the path, through the woods
The trees enclosing he ground beneath my feet
The tunnel like lighting flooding my view,
As the world around me diminished
I turn my head focusing in on my feet
One step, then the other
Right foot, then left
I look to the feet of the stranger in front of me
Matching pace with his steps
Trying to keep up
He’d promised me it was the right way
Told me to follow him
And i trusted it
Watched his feet fall and the world around me disappear
The trees inclose, losing the green that was once there
Lights turned off by the enclosure of the trees
As though the world has gone quiet
As though i no longer stand,
No longer exist
I feel my eyes grow wider as the world goes darker
I listen for something, anything
Quiet finds my ears,
Silence surrounds me
But what else?
I’ve been taken away
No colour, no light
I can't see, can't breathe
The nothingness surrounds me
Nothing but his steps,
His steps i know nothing more than to follow
I let it happen,
Let myself feel and see less and less
As though asleep,
In some kind of a trance
Yet somehow the steps break through,
One step, then another
Right foot, then left,
On and on,
Until it stops,
He pauses, frozen in place,
I look up and for the first time i can see,
I look ahead, and see it
The fork in the road, two paths colliding
Splitting open the road we take,
The stranger steps,
One foot to the right then the other,
I go to follow, but my feet take me away,
Betraying the my thoughts, they pull me to the left,
But maybe just maybe, they save me
I can see
The trees enclosing he ground beneath my feet
The tunnel like lighting flooding my view,
As the world around me diminished
I turn my head focusing in on my feet
One step, then the other
Right foot, then left
I look to the feet of the stranger in front of me
Matching pace with his steps
Trying to keep up
He’d promised me it was the right way
Told me to follow him
And i trusted it
Watched his feet fall and the world around me disappear
The trees inclose, losing the green that was once there
Lights turned off by the enclosure of the trees
As though the world has gone quiet
As though i no longer stand,
No longer exist
I feel my eyes grow wider as the world goes darker
I listen for something, anything
Quiet finds my ears,
Silence surrounds me
But what else?
I’ve been taken away
No colour, no light
I can't see, can't breathe
The nothingness surrounds me
Nothing but his steps,
His steps i know nothing more than to follow
I let it happen,
Let myself feel and see less and less
As though asleep,
In some kind of a trance
Yet somehow the steps break through,
One step, then another
Right foot, then left,
On and on,
Until it stops,
He pauses, frozen in place,
I look up and for the first time i can see,
I look ahead, and see it
The fork in the road, two paths colliding
Splitting open the road we take,
The stranger steps,
One foot to the right then the other,
I go to follow, but my feet take me away,
Betraying the my thoughts, they pull me to the left,
But maybe just maybe, they save me
I can see
Headlight Eyes, by Abella Vasquez (10) - Full
When I was 12 I saw a deer for the first time on a hike with my family. It’s velvet-soft tawny fur wrapped around it like a blanket, ears darting left to right as it ate another bundle of apple-green grass and chewed and chewed and chewed. I gasped as the reality of this creature standing before me set in. Quick as I’ve ever seen, the deer raised it’s head meeting my startled gaze. I saw eyes of nothing, small black voids that reflected the early morning light like the faceted beads I used to play with as a child. Then it ran, heavy hooves flattening dead foliage.
The next time I saw a deer was in my bedroom window, a lanky figure lurking among the shadows of the garden. I thought I screamed. But silence lingered. I watched as it ate our cabbage and sugar snap peas, chewing and chewing and chewing. My father chased it out with a metal rake.
The last time I ever saw a deer was at 120mph. There was a gleam of light, a screech, a little blood maybe… but despite the chaos I could see the deer’s beady nothingness eyes, staring. But this time they were filled with light, shining so brightly that it was blinding.
I was angry. What kind of creature would embrace death? Survival was everything, but that thick-skulled, brainless deer didn’t care. It wanted to die, if anything. So why did I have to suffer for that? Why was I the victim of a blind stupid deer and it’s stupid nothing eyes? I embraced it! I stared in awe on the hike, I let it eat our food in the plot and it repaid me with this? Every animal remains in the deep vacuum of nihility until it is seen by human eyes. They are nothing without me.
The next time I saw a deer was in my bedroom window, a lanky figure lurking among the shadows of the garden. I thought I screamed. But silence lingered. I watched as it ate our cabbage and sugar snap peas, chewing and chewing and chewing. My father chased it out with a metal rake.
The last time I ever saw a deer was at 120mph. There was a gleam of light, a screech, a little blood maybe… but despite the chaos I could see the deer’s beady nothingness eyes, staring. But this time they were filled with light, shining so brightly that it was blinding.
I was angry. What kind of creature would embrace death? Survival was everything, but that thick-skulled, brainless deer didn’t care. It wanted to die, if anything. So why did I have to suffer for that? Why was I the victim of a blind stupid deer and it’s stupid nothing eyes? I embraced it! I stared in awe on the hike, I let it eat our food in the plot and it repaid me with this? Every animal remains in the deep vacuum of nihility until it is seen by human eyes. They are nothing without me.
I've lost it, by Maddy Byl (10) - Full
You are the person that I see
Everytime I close my eyes
I can’t see what’s right in front of me
So I choose to run away and hide
I lost my vision years ago
I miss seeing the smile on your face
And it haunts me your my ghost
You’ve waited this game out to play your ace
Wait I’ve lost it
I can’t be honest
With you no I can’t see a thing
Wait I’m trying
For you I’m dying
For you I’ll let it all go
Close my eyes when you walk by
To avoid seeing what is true
I’d rather die than say goodbye
And I’ll become what’s the worst of you
Wait I’ve lost it
I can’t be honest
With you no I can’t see a thing
Wait I’ve become
The very worst person
I’ve become the best version of you
And I see you and me
Before we lose our minds and then before we cross the line
Can you stop me before I’ve fallen too far
Before I turn around and see what it is you’ve done to me
Can you stop me before I’ve given up
Cause I’ll give up
Wait I’ve lost it
I can’t be honest
With you no I can’t see a thing
Wait I’ve become
The very worst person
I’ve become the best version of you
Everytime I close my eyes
I can’t see what’s right in front of me
So I choose to run away and hide
I lost my vision years ago
I miss seeing the smile on your face
And it haunts me your my ghost
You’ve waited this game out to play your ace
Wait I’ve lost it
I can’t be honest
With you no I can’t see a thing
Wait I’m trying
For you I’m dying
For you I’ll let it all go
Close my eyes when you walk by
To avoid seeing what is true
I’d rather die than say goodbye
And I’ll become what’s the worst of you
Wait I’ve lost it
I can’t be honest
With you no I can’t see a thing
Wait I’ve become
The very worst person
I’ve become the best version of you
And I see you and me
Before we lose our minds and then before we cross the line
Can you stop me before I’ve fallen too far
Before I turn around and see what it is you’ve done to me
Can you stop me before I’ve given up
Cause I’ll give up
Wait I’ve lost it
I can’t be honest
With you no I can’t see a thing
Wait I’ve become
The very worst person
I’ve become the best version of you
stitches sewn, by Maddy Byl (10)
The string is ivory
Thin and soft between my fingers
Rolled tightly
And coiled up
On the metal tray rests a thin sewing needle
The coiled up string
And a pair of cutting scissors
Softly you take your hand and close my eye
The room is warm
Too warm
I flinch back when I hear you picking up the tools off the tray
I flinch away from you
From the truth
The needle pierces my eyelids
Sharp pain threading through my body
You pull the string from the top to the bottom of my eyes
Sewing them closed
Diagonally piercing back and forth
My first eye is sewn shut
I can still see from the other one
And so I can see the ivory string coloured red from my bleeding eyes
I am becoming accustomed to the darkness
You shut me out
Sew my eyes closed
Then lock me away
I sit silently wanting more than anything to scream
To rip my stitches out of my eyes
And open them wide
So I can see what you’re trying to hide
Don’t hide from me
But you build up your walls
You sew my eyes to blind me from you
From looking at you
From seeing you
I wonder if I were to cut out a piece of me to give to you
Could it in some ways heal the heart you loose
If I were to hand you my eyes before you sew them shut
Would you be able to see yourself as I see you
If I were to give you my spine would you stand taller
If I was holding you up
If I were to give you one of my lungs
Would you breathe easier
Perilously you give up
Before I have the chance to hold you close and let you know
I am nowhere near close to you but you push me away anyway
I’m begging you to take your walls down but I’m deaf as much as I am blinded
And I reach out
I try and push through the walls you’ve created
Scrapping my nails on the cold brick
My fingers bleeding trying to rip it open
But I cannot see anymore
My eyes are sewn shut and soon my ears will be cut off so I become deaf
And I can no longer see you
Soon I will no longer hear you
And next will be my hands which you will chain behind my back
So I can no longer feel you
And after my hands you will cut off my tongue with the scissors you cut the end of the string that stitches my eyes closed
I will not be able to speak to you
You have blinded me to push me away
And yet I still reach for you
I still try and push through
I cannot find you
I cannot find myself
You are sewing my eyes shut
Sewing them closed
Completely and truthfully blinded yet guided by the need to hold you close miles away
You’ve sewn my eyes shut before I’ve even had the chance to properly look at you
I reach for you
Blindly
Thin and soft between my fingers
Rolled tightly
And coiled up
On the metal tray rests a thin sewing needle
The coiled up string
And a pair of cutting scissors
Softly you take your hand and close my eye
The room is warm
Too warm
I flinch back when I hear you picking up the tools off the tray
I flinch away from you
From the truth
The needle pierces my eyelids
Sharp pain threading through my body
You pull the string from the top to the bottom of my eyes
Sewing them closed
Diagonally piercing back and forth
My first eye is sewn shut
I can still see from the other one
And so I can see the ivory string coloured red from my bleeding eyes
I am becoming accustomed to the darkness
You shut me out
Sew my eyes closed
Then lock me away
I sit silently wanting more than anything to scream
To rip my stitches out of my eyes
And open them wide
So I can see what you’re trying to hide
Don’t hide from me
But you build up your walls
You sew my eyes to blind me from you
From looking at you
From seeing you
I wonder if I were to cut out a piece of me to give to you
Could it in some ways heal the heart you loose
If I were to hand you my eyes before you sew them shut
Would you be able to see yourself as I see you
If I were to give you my spine would you stand taller
If I was holding you up
If I were to give you one of my lungs
Would you breathe easier
Perilously you give up
Before I have the chance to hold you close and let you know
I am nowhere near close to you but you push me away anyway
I’m begging you to take your walls down but I’m deaf as much as I am blinded
And I reach out
I try and push through the walls you’ve created
Scrapping my nails on the cold brick
My fingers bleeding trying to rip it open
But I cannot see anymore
My eyes are sewn shut and soon my ears will be cut off so I become deaf
And I can no longer see you
Soon I will no longer hear you
And next will be my hands which you will chain behind my back
So I can no longer feel you
And after my hands you will cut off my tongue with the scissors you cut the end of the string that stitches my eyes closed
I will not be able to speak to you
You have blinded me to push me away
And yet I still reach for you
I still try and push through
I cannot find you
I cannot find myself
You are sewing my eyes shut
Sewing them closed
Completely and truthfully blinded yet guided by the need to hold you close miles away
You’ve sewn my eyes shut before I’ve even had the chance to properly look at you
I reach for you
Blindly
CATS BAT AT ME IN THE ALLEY, by Millie Farley (11)
I’m all scratched up, tufts of my fur clumped in cats’ claws. Cats love to toss me around, the manky rat. And they tell me it’s what I get. They’re all against me. I dug holes through their walls, stole their food, bit their paws, scared their humans, made their life oh so complicated, they say I deserve some torture. Because of the torture I caused them.
Listen, I’m not sitting alive right now because of kindness and patience. It’s a harsh world out there and I’m low down on the trophic pyramid. Sometimes you gotta be mean to survive. Soft cats don’t understand that, because they have humans serving them. If there ain’t anyone looking out for me, at least I am. I gotta look in those road puddles and think ‘at least I’m here for me’. And I gotta dry myself off when the cars roll through that tea coloured water and splash me.
They don’t understand me. Cat bed and sewer life are two contrasting lifestyles and we view things so differently. Their glittery cat collars are worth more than my existence is. Society is accepting, selectively. I’ve found myself on the wrong side of things.
The restaurant don’t serve rodents. I can’t order up a meal from the bar. The bowl of milk by the doorway isn’t meant for me. I scuttle to the back kitchen to break into bags of beans and rice packets. And when I step outside in the alley, my cheeks full, my fur sticky from food, the cats come to get me. They circle me. My survival is titled misbehavior.
I’m a messy, mangy rat—gutsy, not in a good way. Gutsy, I’m gonna get killed just the same.
They don’t respect me. I’m not groomed like them, not polite like them, I cause too much mischief for them. I’ll admit it, rats aren’t obeying citizens. Ethic preservers shame me for my cruelty, but the way they treat me makes them just as cruel as I’ll be. Think you’re so high above me. The irony of being a peacekeeper who participates in bullying. Bullying the bully kinda ruins what you’re tryna achieve. Their own mindset is blind to the morals they’re tryna keep.
When the cats catch me, they bring me to the alley. Batting at me is their favourite hobby.
“Follow the rules,” they warn me. This cycle is endless and no one is the good guy.
Listen, I’m not sitting alive right now because of kindness and patience. It’s a harsh world out there and I’m low down on the trophic pyramid. Sometimes you gotta be mean to survive. Soft cats don’t understand that, because they have humans serving them. If there ain’t anyone looking out for me, at least I am. I gotta look in those road puddles and think ‘at least I’m here for me’. And I gotta dry myself off when the cars roll through that tea coloured water and splash me.
They don’t understand me. Cat bed and sewer life are two contrasting lifestyles and we view things so differently. Their glittery cat collars are worth more than my existence is. Society is accepting, selectively. I’ve found myself on the wrong side of things.
The restaurant don’t serve rodents. I can’t order up a meal from the bar. The bowl of milk by the doorway isn’t meant for me. I scuttle to the back kitchen to break into bags of beans and rice packets. And when I step outside in the alley, my cheeks full, my fur sticky from food, the cats come to get me. They circle me. My survival is titled misbehavior.
I’m a messy, mangy rat—gutsy, not in a good way. Gutsy, I’m gonna get killed just the same.
They don’t respect me. I’m not groomed like them, not polite like them, I cause too much mischief for them. I’ll admit it, rats aren’t obeying citizens. Ethic preservers shame me for my cruelty, but the way they treat me makes them just as cruel as I’ll be. Think you’re so high above me. The irony of being a peacekeeper who participates in bullying. Bullying the bully kinda ruins what you’re tryna achieve. Their own mindset is blind to the morals they’re tryna keep.
When the cats catch me, they bring me to the alley. Batting at me is their favourite hobby.
“Follow the rules,” they warn me. This cycle is endless and no one is the good guy.