I did not wish for this. The carriage wheels push over dozens of pebbles, never giving me a chance to relax for just a moment. My eyes stare at the setting sun in the distance despite the brightness flickering different colors over my vision and blinding me. I blink them away and seal my eyelids.
This poem is about my mom. I’ve known her for only seventeen years of her life — she was a whole different person before I was born. She didn’t have me until she was thirty-five; she had another life at the time. I think it is safe to say that almost all teenagers love to
I wrote this poem while doing an exercise in which I was expected to write in the perspective of a villian. This is from the eyes of a man who leaves the woman carrying his child. The purpose of it is to give the reader another perspective in attempt to prove the intended point. What
Arabella tugged on the strap of her white wings. The costume store had promised they wouldn’t be this heavy and bothersome. She yanked them off and tossed them on the ground. Drunk adolescents stomped on them as the music slowly filched their hearing. Without telling her girlfriend Freya, Arabella left the party, stepping out into
I wrote this poem as a way to show how dominance in a relationship can truly change it for the worse. This particular piece shows how this bright, inspiring girl can change from simply one boy being in her life — this not excluding other cases such as gay, lesbian, etc. relationships. Treatment like this
I’ll admit, it was hard to find a proper way to explain this poem. I’d found motivation to write this when writing about a wildhearted character who doesn’t necessarily have a story yet. When writing this girl, I realized that I can connect with her in this wildhearted way, and it brought me back to
Aurora debated whether she was dead or alive. She birdwatched from her bedroom window, the smoke from her cigarette wafting in the air around her like a cloud. The lake outside stood eerily still. No wind, no ripple in the gray, murky waters. Fog hovered above the surface, ready to engulf a monster soon to
As my friends like to point out, my music taste is stereotypically hipster, with indie beats and eclectic lyrics galore. While some show genuine interest, asking for song recommendations (which is rather flattering), often the classic hipster jokes can become insulting. Playlists are deep reflections of our personalities; when our music taste is insulted, so
It is never untimely to speak up about the issues in rape culture. For those unaware of the definition, rape culture is normalizing sexual assault and abuse. As in, blaming the victim of assualt with a list of excuses that doesn’t fault the attacker in the slightest. A couple events inspired me to write this
Never Trust a Fox The clenching of Jackson’s heart and the tightening of his chest sent a painful ache up and down his core. Keep running, keep running, keep running, he told himself. With only the moonlight to guide him and the knives at his side to protect him, Jackson curved both vertical and horizontal
With recent events, I think it is important to promote unity and to suppress the hate. This is a poem written on a 2 a.m. flight, inspired by the blunt confusion of mixed and multicultural children, not understanding and therefore silencing what they are evidence of. Minorites have come far from living completely under others,