There is a girl
on a bench in the park
at the edge of the town.
She is young.
Little ringlets of copper brown
frame her delicate face.
Wide eyes of the purest sky blue
scan the trees.
She is looking for something.

She stands up
and straightens her skirt.
Her legs shiver,
and her socks grow heavy with water.
Nobody is around to question her,
about why she's out in the snowstorm.
She wouldn't answer anyway;
she's too focused.
She is looking for something.

Cautious steps now.
The ground is slippery with ice.
Her boots do not hold
because they are too worn from walking.
Finally she reaches it,
the edge of the sidewalk.
She peers intently into the grove.
Her blue eyes narrow.
She is looking for something.

All is silent,
except for the flurries of snow.
Before long there is a blanket on the ground.
It is thick powdery snow.
It collects in her boots and on her scarf,
and she shudders as the ice
presses against her porcelain skin.
But she is silent, focused.
She is looking for something.

After a moment,
she steps back and sighs.
There is a slight smile on her lips.
Her nose is red and drippy with cold.
Still, she is silent,
though not by choice.
She has no one to talk with.
It's barren.
She has found what she was looking for.

What it was I can't say.
Either I don't know,
or it's not my place,
or you could ask her yourself.
But there is a girl
on a bench in the park
at the edge of town,
and she is happy.

I am the rat.
There are always
roads that I can take,
and always
new places to be explored.
I am compact,
and I can
fit wherever I
want to go.
There is always
a surplus of food and
I eat well.
But sometimes,
the food is poison
and I am left with only
my dying breaths.
Some passages lead me only to
being hit with a broom.
I am called
filthy and disgusting.
But still
I find myself
smiling when I
wake because
it's **** well worth it being the rat.
-ignis

Megan
What a poplar name
There are three Megans in my sixth period alone
Most people would want a new name
Something unique
Something different
Not me
I love my name
Sure- when I was young I wanted to change it

But now I know
I know what's so important about my name
See the fact is-
Others may have the same letters and
The same pronunciation.
But my name is still unque
Because my name is just that
MINE.
I, Megan, make my name
**Memorable.

October
I feel that I have an unconventional belief/idea of love.
• To love is a verb, I think it's more an emotion rather than a permanent state of being.
• It can be used and expressed in different ways for different things, but it is all the same love. I may love some things or people more than others, but it's the same feeling. I love my mom and dad, I love reading, I love lasagna, I love the feeling I get when something is more amazing than I originally thought it would be.
• Love isn't a serious thing. It's okay to say to people you may barely know or at random times.
• Contrary to popular belief, I don't believe that you never stop loving someone. You can be in and out of love with someone, at points people are worth loving and at other times, they are less deserving. And I don't have to love them in that moment.
• Love is temporary. If I love a boy tonight, it doesn't mean that I will and/or must love him in thirty years, or six months, or even tomorrow morning.
• I am capable of loving several people simultaneously because several people may deserve my love at that time. It's a feeling that should be shared and expressed whenever appropriate and there shouldn't be consequences or guilt associated in sharing it.
• I don't believe there comes a point when you cross the line of liking someone to loving them, this line to me doesn't exist. You are not aware of the moment you fall in love with someone, because there is no definitive of love or falling into it.
• Love isn't a fairytale, myth, or fabricated term. It's real.
But I think the term and feeling of love is more romanticized than anything.

April*
Oh God, I think that I'm in love and everything has changed.
• Can a simple emotion really have this great of an impact?
• This is different from any other emotion. It's stronger and it hurts better than the love I have for coffee and ***** and my stepsister
• Love, it's a thing. And even though we were drunk when we admitted it, it still meant what we wanted it to mean.
• I won't ever stop loving you because you're never not deserving.
• I will love you tomorrow morning, and in six months, and in thirty years.
• It can't possibly be temporary because there are visions of us growing up, around, and into one another and still being happy together in the future
• Love like this isn't felt with everyone. I could never look at anyone the way I look at you. It's not something to be shared, it's special and specific to one person.
• I think I fell in love with you that night we laid on the mattress together and I traced the lines in your hands with my fingers.
• Love is when what you want finally aligns perfectly with what you need
• Love is what I feel for her
• And it is the best ******* feeling in the world

I either care too much
Or I don't care enough
It's like I'm playing a never ending
Tug of war against myself
Too much pushing and pulling
Wondering and waiting
Is it worth the time
Or am I going insane yet?
And even after taking steps back
To see things more clearly
My perspective remains the same
And the image is blurry
I can't decide what's right
And I'm running out of time
To finally make up
My ever changing mind

Drop the mask and façade
I need to see the truth
What is actually there?
What is actually you?
And what have you done
To try to make me stay
Even when it seems
Like I'm pushing you away
I miss the way it used to be
When you actually tried
Now I'm falling for you harder
And I'm scarring my pride
But what is actually hurt
Isn't the fact that you're fading
But the fact that I was wrong
When I thought I could change it

And maybe after this
I'll finally learn
How to point out the liars
Before I get hurt
But mistakes are inevitable
Even for me
I'm not the perfect person
I wish I could be
But I'll remember the past
When I'm living every day
I won't let people trick me
Won't listen when they say
That they can give me the world
But they have their fingers crossed
Because I can't lose my head
Or ever get lost
For the fear of unreturned love
Is something to hate
Because it's bound to happen sometime
Despite your effort to delay it

And well the seasons change
And memories fade
But the lesson will always
Remain the same
You'll have to face lies
Disappointment and heartbreak
But hold onto yourself
It's the only thing you'll take
Because most everything eventually
Crumbles and falls
But if you're still there
Standing up tall
You'll be able to start over
Get a fresh start
To reopen the wounds
You've sealed on your heart

Ridding the Dark Shadows that lie,
Deep adumbrations of the past;
That lurk within close quarters
Is an ever present cynical task.
By this, I mean, the scoundrels will always be near.
But not to live within us, nor to cause us fear.
Their presence simply affirms that we're living in the light;
Because Shadows are never visible in the dark of night.

After a great deal of climbing
I reached the top
and paused to admire things from
that new place. The sky was
a trio of hues (halcyon dragging to
teal fading to slate) and the sun was
a great big bright thing
(inflamed, illuminated).
Inch by inch, I lifted my arms,
as if to embrace the gusts of wind
licking at my skin.
I tilted my face toward
the volcanic dazzle and
stood there a while, imbued with
ponderous joy. The longer I
remained, the more sure of
everything I became,
of the steady drumbeat of energy
pulsing in the dirt,
of the synergistic tangle of
death and life.
My scalp began to tingle with a
giddy, glowing sensation:
a breathless sort of reverence
I had never known.
Oh, what a life,
I thought
and took off down that hill with
arms out like airplane wings,
not caring what the neighbors
might think

i. he was three am coffee
   and an orange pill bottle
   cracked and lifeless on
   the bathroom floor tiles
ii. he was poetry and no
    lies and animal rights
    and current events &
    wow he was beautiful
iii. He Was A Tidal Wave
    That Crashed My Heart
    A Total of Seventeen And
    A Half Times And I Loved
    Him Like I Loved The Sun
iv. number four was myself and
     it had never felt so good to
     smile at the beauty of your
     self because you are the stars
     and the moon and you are you
v.  She was thunder and rain and
      the calm after the storm. She
      tasted like caramel and smelt
      like cigarettes. I thought that
     she would be my last first kiss.
vi. he was the liquid in my lungs
     and the stars in the sky. we
     ******. a lot. and then he
     would kiss me and hold me
     real soft and real tender
     and i was home

People are janitors.
We try to keep our lives clean,
but it always goes back to ruins.
We try to clean up the lives of others,
Only to find that we can't do anything.
And that we probably hurt them.
And that we probably messed their lives and ours.
We try to clean our hearts.
It's broken. It's shattered.
It's muddy after a day outside, playing in a storm of tears.
Yet, we always fail, don't we?
Thinking that maybe tomorrow is the day it washes itself.
We try to clean the world.
This organization promises cleanliness in Africa.
That organization promises cleanliness in Asia.
But is any cleaning really done?
For every ten fundraisers started, I hear one semi-succeed in its job.
Yet, we believe that we can clean the world.
It's true, we could.
But we're too busy cleaning our own hearts, aren't we?

He is powerless
A mere pawn in a greater plan
His struggle is
The path he has chosen to follow but
He is blessed
For out of utter destruction
They will rise
At my command like a Phoenix from the dust
Because I know
That is what makes him weak
So I strike
He has left his guard down too often
But this time
He is prepared to do battle
He has learned
To watch for phantoms in the night
He will not
Let the ones he cares for fall
Not this time
Not ever again