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TOKstudent Apr 2017
It’s as if sand has coated the insides of my throat,
as if the desert just lightly took its paintbrush,
and dashed it across my mouth.

How is it that when I brush my tongue against my cheek,
it feels as if I’ve rubbed two slivers of paper against each other,
a grating sound escaping from my cracked lips.

I can hear a crackle as I speak,
as the corners of my mouth break away from their hardened shells,
created by beams of harsh sunlight beating against my face.  

It hurts to open my eyes for too long,
because the sun has become an ugly thing,
greedy to take away what little I have left.

The ocean taunts me with it’s deceiving appearance of fresh water,
and I begin to regret all those times I let the faucet run at home...
I can’t help but imagine that faucet trickling over my parched self...
Rad Tad Apr 2015
Forever neglected
Forever dismayed
Forever deafened
By the cacophony of the trade

The antiquated digger stands by
A sentient guard of the worker
It watches as the tree slowly dissipates
Its life slowly crumbling
As the voracious chipper
Devours the tree whole

The worker stands by
The digger stands by
The chipper chips away

The taciturn worker remains
Ruminating the existence of the world.
Why was he put here?
For what reason must he stay with these hallowed construction tools?
Do they feel any remorse for the change that they've enacted
On the world around them?
Are they aware that they transgress the laws of nature?

The bellicose chipper
Wages war with nature
As the people watch so distantly.
Its sound makes the neighbors quite belligerent
Yet the zealots watch attentively.
The pure ignorance
The pure neglect
The blatant apathy
Is something to be seen.

Whatever could possess you
To follow in the footsteps of the worker
To feel his pain as the trimmer
Chips away at the trees' centuries
The sound of shattered glass
Punctuates the air.
Perhaps there has been an accident.
Wrote this one on a plane, too.
Brian Mathwich Apr 2014
Rope em in
Box em in
Push em in
Pull em in!
Entertain the crowd
That is what they see
Make dramatic faces
And let them perceive!

No beautiful colors
Just black and white
It seems so simple
Just play it right

Imagination,
They must have
To make anything
Of my act

It’s not real,
It’s not fake
It’s just a TOK act
In the make
Laila M Apr 2014
6 months
23 different treatments
15 different medicines
nothing, nada, nope, no results.

The pain in my head
is not one I'd ever wish on anyone,
not even my worst enemy.

A migraine
every second
of
every day
even while sleeping
is something no one should endure

I dream about headaches... is that weird?

ouch. agh. ugh.
it's been 6 months, non-stop of people saying:
"time is the best medicine"
"don't lose hope"
"you're young, young minds heal fast."
but my favorite:
"Laila, I promise, you'll be better in a week"

Well doc, it's been 23 weeks, what's up?

honestly,
it's now a joking matter.
one of which I laugh with my friends about
I laugh at the fact that I don't remember 95% of the last 6 months
Not because I find it humorous
but because I've been given 23 different "Laila, I'm telling you this "insert treatment here" will work! It works for 99% of the people that do it."

I am the 1%
ha.
actually, I'm in the .25% of teens still experiencing concussion- related symptoms after 6 months of the hit.
Yay for minorities!

and now,
get this,
my treatment
after spending thousands on hyperbaric chambers, freaky boulderite "healing gods", gag-worthy chinese herbs
is yoga.

— The End —