Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Snow

I can feel the light, cold snowflakes softly touch me,
While I look out at the white field.
The brightness hurts my eyes, but I can’t look away.
The snow is amazing:
All sparkly from the sun shining down on it.
It’s surface untouched.
It’s all so beautiful.
But it angers me.
There’s nothing special about the snow.
There’s no warm feeling to it.
I can feel its stone cold glare at me.
It feels as if it doesn’t want me here,
Like it wants me gone forever,
To just fall off the face of the earth,
The snow mocks me with its beautiful, sparkly surface.
A chill goes through me and now I’m cold.
Like the snow took my soul and turned it to ice.
The snow is winning.
It angers me even more.
I pick up a nearby branch.
I go out through the untouched snow and I walk all over it.
I swing my branch at the snow destroying its perfect surface.
I’m out of breath when I’m and I start walking away.
Once I’m almost gone I look back to the field,
Covered with wreaked snow.
Nobody’s going to like this snow anymore.
A smile comes to my face.
I beat the snow I think to myself with a bigger smile.
And I walk away, mocking the snow.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback