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  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    The simplicity of youth is gradually giving way to the confusion of adolescence. As I plunge deeper into this toxic place, I'm given choices I can't choose from, and asked questions I have no answers to. Answers that seem impossible to find, and choices that seem impossible to make. There...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    It's freaking summer. I don't care that it's still technically spring, or that it has rained everyday for a week, or the fact that I'm still in school, prepping for finals. It's freaking summer, and all I want to do is go outside and hit the beach, do a hand stand, run in th...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    March: Dear Sadness, It's funny how we keep running into each other. I keep seeing you everywhere. It seems we've been growing closer and closer recently. Today in lunch, even though all of my friends left a while ago, you were there to keep me company. You're the only one who'...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There aren't a lot of happy poems or songs, stories. I understand why. I don't write happy poems or songs, stories. Sometimes it's okay to cry. Today though, this will be my happy poem. I don't have to be sad or angry, depressed. It's okay to smile today, be open....
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    Have you ever colored with a yellow marker on blue construction paper? If you have, then you know that instead of that pretty combo of yellow on blue, you get green. No matter how much yellow you use, you still get green, and no matter how much work you put in, you can't get that pretty picture...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    He wiped the green crème off the bottom of his boot. His plastic gloves sported Christmas colors. He stepped over the crushed cone and broken bones as he made his exit from the ice cream parlor parking lot. And the girl wasn't even old enough to know why....
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    My parents wanted something strong, something powerful, something intelligent. It took a while for them to name the little brown haired blob that was me. Since then I've grown taller, my hair has gotten longer. I now longer have to climb on the counter the reach the cabinet shelves, and I can...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    The first time I got a paper cut, it hurt real bad. My finger was oozing blood, and I cried a little. Of course, I was only a child. I didn't know why the sharp edges of the paper sliced my skin, or what I had done to deserve such a fiery punishment. The next time I got a paper cut, it burne...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    It is a gift to be able to watch the world spin, but not get dizzy....
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    The winter gets pretty cold in New York. Sometimes the lake near my house freezes and the ducks slip and slide across it, and fallen leaves remaining from the previous seasons have become a part of the ice. The occasional fox leaves a set of fragile foot prints in the patchy snow, guiding you to it&...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A heartbeat. Faint. Brown eyes shut momentarily. Lined with tears of anger. Sadness. Being alone. The cold is a cradle in the darkness. Chilling, but it burns. In, out. Stabbing at my lungs. Sobs strangle the words. There's the questionable existence of trouble. Imminent danger, perhaps ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Daggers of pure copper which in the light would glow, slipped past my defenses and Plunged deep into my soul. The daggers, they were hidden. Concealed within the dark. I didn't even realize until they stabbed my heart. I felt them pierce my skin, so gently in they slid. A phantom pain...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Who are you to tell me that I am anything short of beautiful? Who are you to tell me that my heart is not purely gold? To judge me is not a privilege given to you. For I am who I believe myself to be....

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