You are perfect with your imperfections,
You are the one I want to be.
You make me aspire to do things,
You are a role - model for me.

You are kind, you are smart,
You're lovable and free.
It seems you've unlocked the door to perfection,
Please can I borrow the key?

Not only only that, but you have been blessed with looks,
And a heart as pure as the sea.
I love you for being you,
But I despise you for being better than me.

I think you are wonderful - don't get me wrong,
I am just being a pain in the knee.
Don't worry your flawless perfect face,
It is just me being me.

This is what I thought of you,
Until I could see...
That you have problems too,
Just like everyone - and me.

This has taught me not to judge,
Where as I am now able to see.
I am no longer blind in stubbornness,
So thankyou for being patient with me.

The sound of snow crunching under feet.
The sound of children, laughing.
The sound of trees swaying in the breeze.
The sound of birds, engrossed in their song.

The sight of white delicate snowflakes blanketing your ebony black hair.
The sight of children running freely.
The sight of leaves blowing through the wind.
The sight of birds, soaring high through the sky.

Instead of seeing a flower, I see a beautiful plant that looks untouched by anything mortal.
Instead of smelling dead fish, I smell the sand dunes and the sea.
Next time you see, smell or hear something, appreciate it. Cherish it.
Because tomorrow at least something will have changed. Tomorrow nothing will ever be the same.

If I ruled the world things would be this way:
The Hunger Games would be watched every single day,
Tomorrow When The War Began would be listened to and read,
While others choose to have the figurines next to thier beds,
John Marsden and Suzanne Collins would be the best known authors,
And mothers would go out to dinner once a month with just their daughters.

I would be a rich and famous actor and a poet,
Ellie, Julia and Taylor have talent and I know it,
I just need to figure out the best way for them to show it,
Maybe in acting, writing or singing,
I have no ideas for my bell they are not ringing.

I would stop all war and poverty,
And everyone would have the same amount of property,
I would even out the money for every country,
And have all my fruit and veg hard and crunchy,
Our world would be a multi-cultural, accepting all religions,
One day I would get rid of all televisions.

Swimming would be a sport at school as well as cheerleading and diving,
But everyone would have to take lessons in surviving,
And every day my hair would be curled,
All of this would happen if I ruled the world.

written by maegan cattermull

My little girl,
You are innocent and sweet.
You are the most precious thing
Anyone could meet.

You are my social butterfly,
You are clueless to how horrible the world can be,
Of how sad it can make people feel.
But all of YOUR sadness - I will make sure it goes to me.

You don't deserve to feel pain,
I don't want you to grow up the way I did.
You are my dandelion in the spring,
Even though your'e my stepmother's kid.

I love you more than life itself,
I would give mine away for you.
And some days I can only hope,
That you love yourself as much as I do.

With your golden hair
And crystal blue eyes,
People may underestimate you,
But from me they will be despised.

So my darling Alyra,
So perfect and young,
When I am thinking of you,
The words "I love you" will easily come.

This girl is on fire
She sees the world differently
She has a different sort of determination in her eyes
She cannot understand how other girls just sit there and wait for Prince Charming to come along

This girl is on fire
She wants nothing more than to protect her family
She never cries, or shows any weaknesses or vulnerability
She doesn't have everything in life, but wants to make the most of it

This girl is on fire
She doesn't believe in love or fairytales
Perhaps that is the reason she reads about them
Maybe she is just waiting for someone to prove her wrong
She sure hopes not

This girl is on fire
She is the girl that everyone wants to be but no one wants to approach
She is the girl who sees herself as a waste of space
Everyone knows her, but nobody takes the time to see past the mask she puts on

This girl is one fire
She has been burnt by flames before
But what can she expect?
You can't play with fire and not get burnt.

Russia and Sunny
Are so very funny
The way that they play with each other
They peck and they claw
All over the floor and being so different's no bother.

Russia meows and
Sunny goes 'POW!'
And flies all over the room
He hits some walls
And then he falls
With a big loud crash and a 'boom'.

Russia gets scared
And hides under the chair
And she doesn't come out for an hour
She doesn't come out
Until you shout
"**** **** come eat your chowder!".

Every scar tells a story
They are not an ugly mark
No, instead they are a bravery mark
Proof that you will sacrifice everything to do what needs to be done.

You don't have disgusting scars all over your body
You have stories all over your body
And one day, someone will come along willing to listen to your stories
But until then, you must go on and look over the staring faces - and make your mark.

I have learned that scars are possibly the most beautiful things that have come along with pain
I am now no longer embarrassed of my scars
Instead I stand tall and show people that I am here
Scars are beautiful.

He hits me.
His own daughter.
Can't he see what this is doing to me?
Can't he see the bruises that he leaves?

The kids at school have started to ask questions.
I hate to think what would happen if they found out.
I don't want their pity.
I just want my father to stop.

He is always mad at me for something.
Like last night, for example.
I made him spaghetti instead of roast like he wanted.
So, what do I get? A beating. And he ATE the food anyway. Didn't give me a single bite.

I'm hungry.
I haven't had anything to eat in about 36 hours.
Why doesn't my father like me?
Did I do something wrong? I hope not.

He wasn't always like this.
It started years ago, when I was 9.
Right after my mother had killed herself.
I had found her, sitting on the bathroom floor with empty pill bottles spread out around her.

I ran to his work, telling him the news.
He took me home, sat me down. I thought he was going to comfort me. I was wrong.
He hit me. Just like that.
I've cried every night since. Silently, though. I don't want to give him the pleasure of knowing he hurt me.

I get good grades, have a good singing voice.
I am School Captain, have a pretty face.
I am good at the arts, excel in sports.
I am the luckiest girl in the world, right? Wrong. Couldn't be more wrong.

School ends.
I run home.
I write a note to my father:
'Goodbye. Mum wanted to get away from you, now I am too. And the only thing I regret is not doing it sooner.'

I lock myself in the bathroom.
No, I will not **** myself with pills.
I am not my mother.
I did not marry that sick man.

No, I will defy him in the best way possible.
I run out of the bathroom.
Grab a length of rope from the back shed.
Try and prepare for what comes next.

I still remember how to make a hangman's noose.
And there I go.
I hang myself.
Right above the front door. Where he will see what he made of his little girl.



The man weeps. He knew it was wrong.
He would have stopped if he knew it was this bad.
He hates himself, but he must go on with life - and make it a good one. He will show his darling daughter that he can be a good person.
He sits on the ground, thinking of what he made of his little girl...

I run through the long grass, trying not to make a sound
I can hear them coming close with every cautious step I take
I pray that they won't hear me
Take a few  silent few steps forward and hide behind a tree.

Slowly, carefully I rise the rifle to my face
Aim. Take it off standby. Shoot
I just took lives. I go and get the little boy out of the rabbit hole I hid him in
I, just plain old me, just killed people.

I sit, dwelling on what I have just done
Self-defence or ******?
I like to think it was to save the boy, or as some noble crusade to honour my country
But in the end it just means that I valued my life over theirs. Doesn't it?

How many people is it okay to **** in order to keep me alive? Hmm?
At what point do we lose our soles if we haven't already?
It was ******: They hadn't provoked me
It was self-defence: If they found me they would have killed me. Which one is it?

I grab the other guns, they have some good models
I tell the boy to try and and clean up any evidence while I dump the bodies
They weren't much older than I was, and they looked just as scared
I just killed soldiers. Now their painful moans and scared faces haunt me in my dreams.

Waiting in the dark. Just waiting.
I can't sleep. I will wait until morning.
I just can't risk having that dream again.
That one dream. The dream that changed my life forever.

I dreamt that I was running so fast that I felt like I was flying.
I felt amazing. Smiling, laughing, feeling the wind blow through my hair.
As I approached a house, I saw it was on fire.
When I moved close, I saw that it was specifically my father's house.

"No," I said. Then I started screaming.
"No no no no NO!" I was starting to hear screams.
It was her. Alyra. She came running out of the house as if she was on fire. And she was.
Her pink-white shirt got caught on the door and she was stuck.

I tried to run for her. I did. I really tried.
But these hands grabbed my waist.
I looked back, and could see a boy. Blonde hair, but the face was blurred.
I was so mad that he wouldn't let me get her. I punched him and kicked him, but he just wouldn't let me go.

All he said was "I'm sorry."
Throughout my dream there were so many people whom I loved that died.
Alyra, Molly, my mother, my father, all my close family members like young Isabel, Rose, and T-J. Lilly, Maegan, Mahali, and SO MANY people died.
Each time I couldn't save them.

Then, at the very end of my dream, I fell into a pit.
Everyone who I couldn't save came and buried me alive. Each person giving me one shovel of dirt.
The list went on and on.
I woke up sweating and thrashing about.

And this, is how I learned that I really should not make any more friends.
It hurts to care about people, it hurts to love people.
But there are some whom I just can't help myself with.
I hate caring about them, but it pleasures me to know that they are safe... Safe. Ha. Safety doesn't exist. And the sooner we figure that out, the better off we'll be.