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 Jun 2018 Jamilla
Lakshmi
You struggled for me;
Made me learn right from wrong;
Taught me numbers, taught me songs;
Fought with me, cried too;
Laughed with me, helped me tie my shoes;
You were my father, from day one,
So happy fathers day - I love you mum.
My mum is a single parent
 Jun 2018 Jamilla
autumn
The only part of my day
That I look forward to
Is when I go to bed
And lay there making up scenarios
In my head.

I think of comebacks
To 8th grade bullies.
I think of witty retorts
To my mother's snide comments.
I think of intelligent things to add
To conversations I had months ago.

I think of all the things
I was too scared to say.

And in my mind
I say them.
And pretend how things would be different
If only I had the courage to speak.
 Jun 2018 Jamilla
Tom Miskin
Listen.
Shhhh...
You are afraid.
So am I.

Listen.
The Drum in your chest beats,
Mine does not.
Shhhh.
Listen whilst they laugh.
At you.

You are alone.
Listen!
Silence...
I am alone.
Our words eaten by the Dark.

Listen!
you're in a cage.
All you see is the Dark,
It is your friend.
He is your only option.

You're in the middle of an ocean.
Listen!
Nobody is there,
With you.
And often you sink.
The Darkness teases you.
You are vulnerable.
You can't breath.
I,
I can't breath.

You are an illusion.
Society's ghost.
The voice in the back of their mind.

No one can see You.
The true You.
You are the one who walks hand-in-hand with the dark.

And when they do see you,
They tell you to see the light.
Just try, they say.
Ohhhh trust me,
You try,
I tried.
Eventually you realise.
There is no light!
Only Fire...
Fire!
Of course.
You have found your light.
Fire....
It was given to you.
He helped you.
He is your only friend.
Who?
The Darkness.

You go around,
Spreading your fire.
Every time it spreads,
The Dark grows stronger.

Where you was once a ghost,
You are now a candle.
They finally see you.
You burn bright.
You have their attention.
Until the candle goes out.
You go out.
You lose your light.

He calls out to you.
Tells you to take his hand.
He bribes you.
He gives you a knecklace.
It leaves a Dark mark.

He didn't tell you?
My knecklace was made of rope.
What was yours?

Listen!
Shhhh...
Your no longer screaming.
Your no longer alone.
Your no longer in pain.
The Dark is comforting you...
 Jun 2018 Jamilla
E. E. Cummings
if I should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips).

Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly, I will bring you  every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.

Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
I will bring you every year

something which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.

— The End —