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Emma Peterson Aug 13
I hesitate
To admit that I tend to put things off until they absolutely must be dealt with

I was born here.
I’ve moved between neighborhoods but
These mountains have watched me grow up.

It’s always been the same
But somehow different
Things get older and people get bigger
Sometimes better sometimes a little scratched up
But they never get worse

There can always be found new in the old
Born again without ever dying
So we have to allow the old to grow
Let it be free from expectation and reputation
And say goodbye

If the heart is a muscle
How can it never tire and never rest?
I worry that when it’s pounding in my chest
It’ll eventually reach a breaking point
Where it can’t take anymore
“never again”'s and things left unfinished.
The price you pay for loving is losing
And because I can lose I know my heart is full and I have been given so much

From the sidewalks to the sunsets to the imaginary rattlesnakes
To fire pits and family dinners and my favorite burger place
To the family I’m not related to but always offer me a home
And the high school that may be falling apart but is held up by the people inside

But it can’t last forever, so
Even when the flowers die
And the vases sit empty
And act as gravestones to the things once celebrated
I will come lay a fresh bouquet
Say Hello to Goodbyes
And love and remember
The ones who made me.
Amaris Jul 25
The blossom floats to the ground
It hits so violently all of hell shakes
Heaven gazes wordlessly from above,
Watching our actions, judging us.
One eye follows our every move,
Waiting for failure; maybe I'll never graduate
Let's wander past old brick buildings
(a collaboration)
New days come and go,
And fade into the past.
A future that I barely know,
Has appeared at last.

Soon I'll leave my old home,
For an new chapter I will find.
But the farther I roam,
The more I want to look behind.

I've been given a great life,
With friends and family that care.
Through whatever struggle or strife,
They have always been right there.

But what will I do when I'm all alone,
And far from their embrace.
Will I regret leaving home?
Will tears stain my face?

Who will be there to help me?
When my world falls apart.
Will I be happy?
Or will I end up with a broken heart?

Though many questions fill my mind.
As well as worries and fears.
There is someone I can always find,
Even through blinding tears.

So with an open heart,
God has comforted me.
Giving me a brand new start,
And showing where I am meant to be.

As I go through this new chapter,
Wherever it may lead.
No matter what comes after,
God is the only one I need.
An old poem I wrote for graduation last year.
stokes May 13
i am not prepared
and i'm glad.
because what else would there be left to learn?
in this huge
endless
ever-changing world?

our work is never done -
and thank /goodness/ it's not.
for we seek goodness,
but like competence,
will we ever actually reach it?

how can we stop here?
how can we be fully prepared?
how can we ever just find that holy grail?
what would be left to chase?
with an entire world to see, how can we narrow our vision
to one place
at one time?

i never want to leave my mark
on one place
at one time.
i never want to be comfortable,
stagnant,
still.

for we truly do have one
most glorious
most outstanding
most unique
most painful
most bittersweet
most fleeting
life.
this life won't make sense.
sometimes, it feels like we don't make sense.
yes, it's all strange -
it's all foreign,
in the best way.

so, no - i'm not "prepared."
i am ready.
lake May 11
it was the last days of high
we were busy saying good bye
all the laughs and tears
looking back on our 3 years

time felt so slow then
but it's so fast now
if i did it again
i would still not know how

how do i step up
the shivers just creep up
never was good at confessions
never was the one to show affection

i never really learned
it's still a slow burn
another love song for another day
i put it on loop, i'll just let it play
rows of two!-three!-four!-boys-bloc-king-the-cor-rid-or
will soon be gone
and the RHYTH-mic-tick-tock-of-my-leg-BOUN-cing-on-the-floor
will be no more
it's fresh cadavers wrapped in string
it is a joyful gospel hymn
mourning the best and worst of youth
(those shiny kids who'd first walked in
with all the grace and all the poise
of hatched arachnids missing limbs)

but what of "her" – you know her name –
that overfed, reptilian thing
who shed her hair and scratched her skin,
cursing the odds at Him upstairs, demanding He re-shape her?

some say she cried herself into extinction
– sailed away on a crimson tide –
balking at the trauma of being seen
(enforced, cursed vulnerability
in being known to man).

the rest knew better;
they were voyeurs in this
fruit-carving tutorial
on 'how to grow up':

STEP 1) consider all other alternatives
2) take the scalpel and initiative
3) before adrenaline gives way to doubt,
turn the flesh-vessel inside out in a cocoon of your own creation!
while organs may rupture and it aches like you've skinned yourself alive (good for her, setting herself free!) you'll look cuter in the class photos and has you-know-who... finally... shifted the weight?
4) breathe through the blood loss and searing pain
5) notice
           you
                can
                     breathe again.
                     at this point, does it matter that it aches?
tribute to the worst years of my life so far. may it only get better from here.
Elisabeth May 8
they say these are the best four years of my life
and i never believed it for a second
with only weeks left
i finally understand the amazing experiences i’ve had
and the connections i’ve made and lost
i’ll never get anywhere else
these times pass through my head like a well made song
that is able to bring you to tears
with only a few notes
memories that i can never recreate
or fabricate
for once in my high school career i’m thinking
i might actually miss this
getting up at the crack of dawn
riding a bus through a foggy autumn morning
to go to classes that i hated
but that i now want to repeat
with this ending
i’m actually growing up now
m Apr 30
melting minutes
into memories,
in to mayday parades of
everything i should have done,
everything i couldn't,
everyone who said i had to.
the days are starting
to feel like distant places
where my past self lives;
it is a miracle that i made
it here, it is a miracle
that i'm leaving,
it is a miracle
that my muscle memory
hasn't made me ruin it.
i've been thinking about
those first days,
the majestic trauma of
eighteen now the
monstrosity of twenty-two.
ahead of me lies a path of
i don't even know what
but i made it here,
i can make it anywhere.
Paylei Rose Mar 21
A time of laughter and stride
This year has had it's ups and downs
We might have even cried
Or maybe we ran the towns

We stood our ground
Fought the system
Now all that's left is to look around
For that was the last to be written
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