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 Oct 2015 Baylie Allison
Jenna
A little boy once asked me
why I want to go away tomorrow
because he doesn’t understand
that’s what gets me through today.
"Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia."
 Oct 2015 Baylie Allison
Jenna
Welcome to this institution,
high school is a magical place.
You’ll leave with fantastic memories
and a genuine smile on your face.

A 4.0 GPA is not unattainable.
Believe us, you can balance it all.
A student will get plenty of sleep
and won’t have a breakdown come next fall.

The friendships you create in this building
are ones you’ll cherish your entire life.
Nothing but respect will flow here.
You’ll never be stabbed in the heart with a knife.

The standardized tests will matter in ten years,
write your answers neatly in ink.
These scribbled bubbles are really essential,
they’re fair to the many ways to think.

This is not a biased system,
the dress code applies to girls and boys.
Cheerleading uniforms are not exempt,
you will be treated like more than just toys.

Everyone in this school is equal,
no one’s treatment is unfair.
It doesn’t matter how different you are
suffering is not something you’ll have to bear.

Welcome to this institution,
high school is a magical place.
It’s four fantastic years of your life,
good luck finishing this race.
There were furrows in his brow
Kept his music much too loud
Paper skin and paper grin
To his chest, a heart we'll pin

Veins are ****** tunnels
A carbonated bottle
A lump love funnels,
Bubbles over, feeling sober
Dismal future, no four leaf clover
Afraid to search around for a light
Afraid to wait around and see that it might
Not be all that worthwhile

He lived to take flight
Dark crimson in a ****** vile
Injection withdrawn, thin paper smile
Down below,
Ground is coming near
And before the pavement
A vision was clear

A final thought rummaged through his brain
A blissful blow, a final aching pain
A florescent concussion, an angelic cheer
A temporary life he lived
For it was not death he feared
5th
I haven’t been myself lately
You know that it is my yearly thing, well ever since you’ve been gone
I went back to places that reminded me of you
Like our old house, where I used to visit you every Christmas day and Father’s day
I went to your grave a week after my last visit
I just felt the need to “be with you"
I wanted to find comfort, to feel loved
I went back to my old workplace
I wanted to remember how I made coffee for strangers while you were dying
5 years and still no justice
Seemed like I have given up but I didn’t
I just grew up dad, and learned how forgiveness goes
But I will never forget
I will never forget how soon you left
I will never forget the bullet marks in your chest
I will never forget you daddy
Someday daddy, we’ll find you that justice that you deserve
 Oct 2015 Baylie Allison
Jenna
He's following me,
I see him over my shoulder.
Beside me.
In front of me.
I wish I could escape,
but his words fill the air.
He's following me
and I can't run any faster.
He's here.
Love is a terrible game,
but hate is a worse one to play.
Sunday is gloomy
But monday is something much worse
Monday I wake up and dreams turn to ashes
The spell you put on me
My dear is a curse

All the rosy pictures I drew in my head
Are bleeding out my eyes
And turning my world red

There is no yellow brick road
To bring me back home
I’m out in the fog and the mist all alone

Sunday is magic
Compared to the tragic
Transformation from night
Into day

The dark is a safety on which I rely
When the daylight reveals all the details in sharpness
That contrasts the dullness I feel when the lights are away
And I’m not awake

There’s nothing but a maze in the traffic
As I look out my window to peels from their horns
It’s a cacophonic orchestra funeral march
And it’s bidding me throw myself down
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