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Charlotte Ivy Jun 17
D&D books and pirate smiles
Our middle school crush has gone a thousand miles
Behind the band room kisses before class
Only your Stitch impressions could make me laugh
Late night phone calls and good morning texts
I love you like I’ve never loved the rest
Kailey Jones Apr 4
His name is Carter
And he’s all alone
In school
At home
Even on the bus because
no one sits next to him,

(But I’ve made an attempt
To be his friend
But I can’t break free of the honesty
That he is extremely annoying
So I will leave him to himself
Whenever I can)

One day his bag was extra heavy
And I could see it
But I did not ask about it
To not let out the brutal honesty
At the end
That I really did not care
Except my mind went there
Courtesy of the news
And I looked at the shape
Which wasn’t outlined as a rifle
So I looked the other way without paying attention anymore
And when I knew my safety was not compromised
I did not care about why it was so heavy

I stood behind him in line when
His bag bumped against me and
I pushed it out of my face because
What a nuisance!

He turned around looking annoyed
and quite frankly I did not care about his feelings
The rest got carried away. Not real. Based on a real person but not a real story.  Part one.
Holly Nov 2019
8th grade, thirteen years old.
That’s me.

Has two close friends with depression
and can think of another seven in the grade who also do.
That’s me.

Knows three people who have attempted suicide,
five who have slit their wrists,
a girl who had such a bad panic attack
she almost died,
three people who have starved themselves.
That’s me.

Only knows these few struggles of a few people.
Knows there are probably countless more
who have to battle their own inner demons
on a daily basis.
Thanks God everyday
that she doesn’t know what these demons look like
and hopes she never has to.
That’s me.

Wishes she could just help take away her friends pain
but can’t because she doesn’t
have the slightest idea what it feels like
but she wishes she oh so wishes
that she could somehow
convince everyone that they matter
because they do
they all do.
She believes any person anywhere can and will
bring value to the world when given a chance
if only we could make them see that.
No one deserves to die!
That’s me.

8th grade, thirteen years old.
That’s me.
Fen Aarons Nov 2018
Headphones like tigers, growling in my ears
Tigers of Rock and Roll, everyone else can hear
I can see them now, dancing to and fro
Like a dancer these tigers, never tripping
The music is a dancer, never missing
This song is so peaceful, with its heavy beat
But also like a tiger, with claws on its soft feet
I can feel the claws, as I slip on the headset
Claws like hooks on my soul, dragging me in it
Into what? I cannot say
But I’m being dragged down, every day.
I wrote this in middle school, and found it on my old deviantart. Figured it was better placed here.
Maegan deme Oct 2018
it's quiet in the classroom.
or maybe I've gone deaf;
oh no,
what if I have?
I wouldn't mind I guess,
At least I wouldn't need to listen to all these stupid middle schoolers
why does anyone and everyone that's in middle school have to be so ******* stupid al the time? good lord
Peter Oct 2018
All alone.
Hidden from humanity
A lone ship on the sea
In the middle of the night.

In the dark
Without knowledge of the trends
Being an outcast until summer ends
Is it a calling or a lie?

Those hours
Spent crying at a pillow
Where has the world gone?
Where have I been?

Like a worm
I lurk below the ground
Awaiting the end
Of it all.
I hath wrote this sad poem to demonstrate the thoughts and feelings of the life of a troubled adolescent
Bella S May 2018
And Tears
Are all feelings I have felt throughout my 7th-grade year
The people I know
And the people I wished I didn’t know
Are all makers of my
And fabulous year
At Congress Middle School.
Kate Apr 2018
What is contained in those years prefacing our story?
Memory is a fickle thing-
Pieces of mine have been left in storm drains and deep closets
Give me what you can-
the frayed shoelaces from fifth grade and clip on ties from homecoming dances
We can trade these like baseball cards-
the patch of woods behind my childhood home for when you learned how to ride a bike
Could you spare the day you knew your mom would leave?
You can have the time I realized silence is tangible when you want company- it rests heavy on your chest as you sit alone at the table .
I take what we've traded and tuck it between my floorboards, in the panels of my walls, in my window frame
What was contained in those years before us is safe in my woodwork as you gift it to me
And the years to come will hold pieces of me
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