Creative Writing

Creative Nonfiction, Poetry, Fiction

Baby Girl
Daniella Ruiz (3/18)

Baby girl,
In the month of January, I noticed I didn't get my period since the first week of December. Normally my period is late by a week or two so I didn't think anything of it. But after not getting anything after a month, I started to get suspicious as well as morning sickness, which never happens to me. I knew lots of symptoms of pregnancy and because I was experiencing some of them I started to worry because your father, Jalen, and I had only had sex once and that time we made sure we were protected.
My mom and I always talked about the other girls who would get pregnant and would have an abortion but we never thought, in a million years, that it would be me. My mom and dad never thought it would be their little girl. And I never thought I'd be going through this.
The procedure was by far the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It was a hard decision to make, but I knew it was something I had to go through personally because my family just couldn't afford another child to take in and your dad and I were both really young. He did support my decision and stuck with me through the whole process. We both regret that we couldn't experience your first words or your first few steps and all of the other precious moments of your life, but we just wanted to let you know that we are always thinking of you.
So we are writing this to you today because its September 1st and you would have been one year old. With the mixture of sweet and sour emotions your dad and I are going through, we just wanted to let you know that you did help us get stronger as individuals.
We love you so much. Happy birthday angel baby.
Mom and Dad

Piano Lover
By Aaliyah Pallet (3/18)

I sat on the rectangular, brown chair, looking down at a black and white piano. I discovered this secluded, small place where they give out $20 lessons for the piano and the guitar, then they have open mic on Thursdays, inviting anybody inside to just play any instrument. Once I came inside, random strangers were already jamming out playing the drums, keyboard, guitar, and even someone was dancing and singing. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t been to this place, passing it while I went to Shake Shack or never noticing it while on the bus. I was easily pleased with the scenery as well. There were a variety of lights hanging up on the small, circular stage. A spotlight shone on the person performing, the classic piano was in the middle of the room with instruments hanging on the walls, and even the bathroom was decorated with a light that changed colors.
See, I didn’t know how to play any instrument at all. One time i tried to play the flute, but i got so light headed. That led to me passing out while I looked like a tomato from the lack of oxygen and I gave up on instruments all together. I just always felt drawn toward the piano. The piano, to me, is one of the most beautiful sounding instruments. I could cry just listening to a person just play one chord because of how breathtaking it is. It makes me sad knowing I have to drive my attention towards school but I always seem to have a roadblock when it comes to a piano and me, wanted to learn and try something new instead of doing the same things all the time.
After discovering this place, I started going more and I also started playing with the piano and trying to learn songs by just pressing the keys and finding out the order myself, but I forgot all the letters that are connected to the certain keys. This lady came up to me, asking me to play a certain key for her so she could tune her violin, I was baffled because I didn’t know anything at the time. The lady placed her finger down on one of the C keys, telling me what it was, then she told me all the rest. To say that didn’t help me in any way, is such a lie, and I still remember it till this day and thank her for offering her time.
I took out my phone and looked through my notes, I noticed so many songs and little poems I typed up and wanted to create something special, for me only. I started coming up with the melody on the piano for one of my songs, using two or three fingers to create my own chords. A smile appeared on my face when I created something beautiful with my own hands without looking at any directions or following someone’s lessons. Just creating something on the piano that sounded good to me when I was so distant from instruments because of lack of time due to personal problems with school and life in general led to my greater love towards pianos.
And that's what I love.

Steps (Capstone Poem)
Alicia Foster 3/18

Steps.
Choosing one passion,
That is surrounded by many,
Is like looking at the options on
The menu at Wendy’s,
Baconator with cheese,
Four-piece nug with a fry,
Yet I wanted multiple deals,
That could get me by.
See that’s why I chose Coop,
And I know Coop chose me.

From the teachers to the students,
To the bathrooms with no tissue that wouldn’t allow me to pee.
You see,
Each year was an option,
That I didn’t have to choose
But because God is my savior
He wouldn’t let me lose.
These 4 main steps,
That are bringing me to college,
Filled my head up with knowing
The true power of knowledge.

One, was freshman year.
Looking back, it was a breeze
Yet I didn’t know
Who was me.
Did I want to write about
Bumblebees for kids around the ages of three,
While all the others wrote about death,
And bloodied scraped knees?
Or tell stories through movement,
Five days a week,
While exploring not only hip hop,
But ballet and proper physique?
All these doors open for me to go through,
And step two brought me one thing to do.

Sophomore year, I sought myself in others,
Took their emotions, cried it out under thick covers
Adopted their drive, made sure I was smothered
In the wanting of a connection deeper than
“I lost the work too sis, so imma have to ask for another.”
Steering clear from favorite colors, to favorite foods, favorite shirts,
I knew to connect deeper I had to put in the work.
One headphone went in, the next followed suit,
When Coldplay started singing,
I knew, I just knew
What I needed to connect,
And what I wanted to pursue.

Step 3 I knew I needed a Plan B.
Junior year brought many surprises like the SAT’s,
Which lead me
To investing in the “plenty bin” for different majors,
And not the “one, and we’ll see.”

Step 4, senior year.
We’re sending forms through,
Seeing who’s true,
And where loyalty lies from and to.
This loyalty is the seed that grows a tree,
That roots in the soil,
Keeps hold of keys to success
Down the line to the future.
Unknowing of all the keys
And possible key holders,
But from these 4 years as I get older,
These steps translate to my career decision,
A dark skin female rapper
Who wants to send a message with precision.

The Questionnaire
Daniella Ruiz (2015)

You left my mother and me
When I was just three
Limited hugs or walks
Limited kisses or talks
I guess we weren't on your mind
Or you would have never left us behind

The questionnaire
Everywhere
Inquiry left unanswered
Like why did you leave
Do you think I'm naive
It's like a blank page in a book
Waiting to be filled
Waiting for us to build
A new relationship

Real fathers stay
They never go away
Real fathers make time
To see their child shine

Being a father comes from the heart
Directly from the start

Looking Back
Daniella Ruiz (2018)

When I wrote poem above, I was in 8th grade. It was just my mom and me and I pretty much didn't talk to my father at all. Well, maybe on major holidays like Christmas and New Year’s but other than that, there were barely conversations between us. He even forgot my birthday, a “holiday” he is supposed to remember because a miracle for him occurred that day. But I don't care much now if he wishes me happy birthday. I honestly have become used to him forgetting.
The last time I saw him was in January. It was actually nice. He picked me up from school and we got a bite to eat at Panera. I had my usual--mac and cheese, grilled cheese, chips and a Pepsi--and he had this weird meal I would never get. I forgot what it was called but he asked me to try it and I said no. After that, we walked to the Bowtie Cinemas downtown. He actually enjoyed the movie I suggested (The Greatest Showman). I didn't think he would like it because of all the singing and dancing but he did, which was pretty cool and surprising.
Since then, we haven't talked much. It's April now and a lot has happened to me since January. I haven’t shared any of it with him. I feel like I should share that I got my license, had two dance shows, and got accepted into the National Honor Society but I honestly don't know how. “Just call or text him” you might suggest. Yeah, it sounds easy, but to me it's not my place because if he really wanted to know about my life he would make the call or send the text.
We did talk a little at Panera but I have realized that some questions should just stay unanswered for now in order to grow our relationship. Although he didn’t stay close to me throughout my life or make time to see me shine, another page in our book is now filled. And we have many pages ahead just waiting for a touch from our pens.

Hazel Loving (Capstone)
Lauryn Darden 3/18

I’m tryna figure out America without minorities. America without pork fried rice, fried chicken, baked mac n cheese, salsa, and plantains. Tasteless. What’s the use for a mouth? I’m tryna figure out America without black folk and latino folk. America without jazz, hip hop, rock, salsa, and rap. Dissonance. What’s the use for the ears? I’m tryna figure out America with just the 1 percent. America without railroads, farms, buildings and even the freshly painted wall in ya living room. Unsustainable. What’s the use for them hands? I’m tryna figure out America without color. To have never seen an array of shades, naive to the notion of a rainbow. What’s the use for those eyes? No wonder the color in all these movies have the same shade. There used to be black and white movies, now it seems like it’s just white. Where’s the color? But I guess, the true utopia is the color on the big screen --only white. They have their ideas of the rainbow, their stereotypes, biases because they enjoy being color blind. They don’t want to see us. America without brown is a soulless American. America without brown is stagnant. Lips that’s surrounded by melanin should portray story. I bet everyone would listen. Then, and only then, would we have use for a mouth. Film is dark, but our stories are bright.You see, people who look like me been hungry for that story. Wilson fed it to us. You see, we been humming that story. Miranda rapped the beginning, middle, and end. You’re wondering where this talent lies? Ms. Hansberry proved that it’s on our fingertips, and white folk denying to even shake such a hand. The sad thing is, because whites eyes are useless, not many brown artists think their art is useful. Quite the contrary, though. Brown plots. Brown characters. Brown words. Brown creation. Brown profits.We’ll just keep on creating. But don’t fret, we won’t stop offering it to you. No matter how many times you refuse to taste it, deny you’re able to hear it, or shut your eyes. The flavor, the harmony, the color, the excluded got a story. Watch the big screens and soon, you’ll realize you just chewing on the stale included.

The Pen
Leizhor Boateng 1/18

In my Freshman year of high school, a girl called me a mystery. She said that I made people wonder about me. I didn’t talk much so I understood why. I honestly didn’t think that I mattered that much to people to where they actually wondered about me. I didn’t speak much because I had another way to express what was on my mind: writing.
Writing was a way for me to say things that I wouldn’t say aloud. I could voice my opinions on topics nobody would care about at the time, such as rap music I liked, skateboarding, or just random topics I’d come up with. All the thoughts and feelings that I felt I couldn’t let out were put onto paper. I used to write every day during class and at home. When we used to do writing in class I was always the most excited. My teachers would ask me if I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, but I honestly didn’t. I didn’t want to be a writer; it was just something I did to get my words out.
I soon learned that writing wouldn’t be enough. In 6th grade there was a school talent show. My teacher wanted me to participate and perform one of my poems. At first I really did not want to do it, but he told me that this was the first step to being able to open up to people. I needed to be able to voice what I needed to say. There was no point in voicing my opinion on paper if nobody was going to see it. So I ended up reading my poem for the talent show about my thoughts and what I felt about school at the time. I got very good feedback. The writing definitely helped me figure out what I wanted to say when the times came to speak and it helped me overcome being unheard. After people heard or read my writing it made them start conversations with me. People actually wanted to hear what I had to say. I went from not saying much to being able to voice my opinion with no problem, all because of a pen and my 6th grade teacher.

Life In a day
Lismary Lopez 3/18

For the past 3 years my alarm was Timo
“My nephew”
Six on the dot, crying because he wanted his bottle

His mother drowning in her sleep
Working double shift, going to college and watching him
That’s a lot to juggle
Seeing her win a full scholarship to college and wondering if she's capable of going

She moved February 05, 2018
I didn't speak to her
I hated her
For at least 3 days

I hated how she just took Timo
Without worrying about the emotional damage she caused
Breaking everyone's heart

I was the one who watched him the whole summer
Three in the afternoon till one in the morning
I was the one who taught him how to say “happy” “hungry” “apple”
I was there when he took his first step

How I had to rock him to sleep with his little Mickey Mouse
How he wouldn’t sleep with her on her days off
If she wasn't at work she was at school

They say that having a child at a early age is the worst mistake you can make
A child is not a mistake, it's a blessing
Then again, you all have your own opinion

I believe that if you're old enough to conceive a baby
You should be grown enough to keep your child, support them
We all knew that she was trying her best
To go to school and support her child

She wasn't bad at it
All I did for the past 3 years was put my social life on hold
Going to school in the morning
Getting out around 3pm, straight to the daycare
No time for friends or any type of hangouts

Picking him up at the daycare
Him running towards me
With his little arms open
And from then till one in the morning

When I started high school, he was still my alarm
But no more daycare
Since I get home at 2:30
But I still watched him in the afternoon

Now, he has been taken away from me
Now, I don't have an alarm
Now, my day begins when my eyes open
No more six on the dot

When my eyes open I don't hear him crying
I hear my mom making breakfast
Her footsteps
Reminding me to lock the door when I leave

Now, I get home
To silence
To an empty house
To no toys on the floor

To a house of darkness
To a house of broken hearts

Together we stand
Eliza Vargas

I am…
Strong and independent.
I will be heard as I shout my oppression into the void that is filled with unheard voices.

She is…
Brave-hearted and innovative.
She will hold her head high as she walks through the valley, clouded by the silenced souls of the past, ready to take the future by storm.

We are…
Standing together united as one.
Crowns up high with the past at our backs, we walk forward into the light of a new day with our new ideas, roaring through the void filled with unheard voices from the women of our past.

My Nana
Kiara McCray 3/18

My Nana. Kinnie Wilson. The woman I’m named after.
My Nana is pretty, intelligent, generous, and unselfish.
She takes cares of her family before she takes of herself.

But, my Nana also gets tired,
Tired of trying to be pretty.
Tired of being generous with little to give.
Tired of taking care of her family because they don't take care of her.

My Nana acts like she didn't receive the family she deserves.
Two sons and an older daughter
With five grandchildren that she didn't envision

Including me.

The one that feels that I disappoint Nana the most.
The one who is always eating more than she should.
The one that needs to lose weight to satisfy her.
The one that can't fit into anything that she sends.

I'm the one who isn't pretty.
The one who isn't intelligent.
The one who isn't generous because she likes saving.
The one that doesn't volunteer to take care of her.
I'm the one who shouldn't be called granddaughter.

How I Love
Benie N'sumbu 3/18

I can’t say I love you because my throat clogs every time the words touch the tip of my tongue.
But what I can do is laugh way too hard at your jokes no matter how awful they might be.

I can’t say I love you because my heart races and my palms sweat when I think of the meaning behind it.
But what I can do is tell you everything that is on my mind even if it is too much information.

I can’t say I love you because my lips aren’t used to putting those three little words together.
But what I can do is take ridiculous videos and photos of you and save them for days when I need a good laugh.

I can’t say I love you at the end of a phone call or as we begin to part ways.
But what I can do is reply to your texts immediately without fail.

I can’t say I love you because I didn’t hear it growing up.
But what I can do is share my food with you and only you.

I can’t say I love you because it is as foreign to me as Latin.
But what I can do is listen to you ramble about your favorite celebrity or rant about your parents.

I can’t say I love you despite how normal it is in our society.
But what I can do is let you in on my craziest, deepest secrets.

I can’t say I love you because of how affectionate it feels and I’m not used to receiving or giving affection.
But what I can do is defend you when I hear someone talking about you.

I can’t say I love you even when I know I do because I’m afraid to give you the power of knowing how much you mean to me.
But what I can do is give you hugs because you’re the only person I feel comfortable around enough to do that.

I can’t say I love you even though I do.
But what I can do is support your ideas and dreams and even lend a hand in helping you achieve your goals.

All I can do love you in my own special way.

Drifting Away
Jai'Dyn Johnson 3/18

People don't see when others are hurt.
They still won't help when they know what’s wrong.
They will literally look right through you.

Balloons drift away when nothing is holding them.
People drift away when they are hurt, sad, and feeling mentally drained.

People will claim they are here for you and say nice things at the right moments.
But when things go left, where are they? Gone!
I'm like the balloon-- when I'm not feeling a good vibe I’ll leave.
When I’m hurt I drift away from everything.

Changed
Ileanie Mercado (3/18)

I am awake

I open my eyes to see the sun shining its warmth on me like the first time
I can hear the birds chirping softly through the forest
I can smell the burnt wood dying down as the flames flicker away
Sending paper ashes through the air

I’m lighter

My body feels like it’s floating
There’s no blood running through my veins
I’m different. I’ve changed, but how?

My feet walk through the soil as they start to weaken beneath me
I taste the sweetness from the berries I was given...given?
Who gave them to me?

My feet stops; I am no longer walking
But standing...just standing why?
Viewing my surroundings carefully
The atmosphere feels different, safe, lonely

I come across a pond and stare at my reflection
I close my eyes and reopen them
I see you, I see me
Dirt, leaves, sweat. I can’t feel the sweat on my face

My body and face covered in dirt and blood...my blood
My hands are cold
They look faded, almost see through
I see shoes; I walk towards them

I freeze

I see the body, I see me
But there’s someone next to me
I don’t know who he is?
But I know one thing for sure

He killed me and I’m dead

Feeling
Ileanie Mercado 2/18

Wondering why there isn’t a smile on your face
Crying all alone, tears running down your face
Thinking crazy thoughts, make them go away you say
You just want to disappear like a ghost scaring you away

You’re lost, hoping for a way to be found
Your hearts still beats, but it's slowly bleeding
You've been let down too many times to count
Biting your tongue, still no sound comes out

So inside you’re screaming
Still fighting your demons
Hoping to be heard, yet no one seems to notice
Tell me, why doesn't home feel like home?

Wild thoughts pass through your brain
Covering your ears, you’re slowly drifting away
Screaming and yelling slowly driving you insane
But tell me, what do you think?

You say “The truth deserves a response
But even lies have their meaning
Love is a blessing and
Hate is a broken feeling.”

Age Formative
Jaidyn Johnson 1/18

TEN
When I was ten I was scared of the dark. When I was ten I got my first bladder infection. When I was ten I took a trip to Virginia. When I was ten I went to King’s Dominion for the first time. When I was ten my mother uploaded a video on YouTube of my brother and I dancing. When I was ten I went to Long Horn restaurant. When I was ten I got my first adult menu. When I was ten I failed my first reading test. When I was ten I dropped my food in the cafeteria on purpose because it looked nasty. When I was ten I did drill team, and I marched in the Juneteenth parade.
ELEVEN
When I was eleven I got suspended. When I was eleven I got a lot of write-ups. When I was eleven I lost my uncle Jamie. When I was eleven I took the biggest loss of my life; both of my uncles and my aunt left me. When I was eleven my family became distant. When I was eleven I got my first acrylic nails done. When I was eleven I threatened a to punch a girl her in the face if she kept bothering my cousin. When I was eleven I got a “Stay back” scare. When I was eleven I got my iPhone 5c fixed.
TWELVE
When I was twelve I stopped caring about school. When I was twelve I started being of a worse student than what I already was. When I was twelve I got a D in science. When I was twelve I started dancing for The Debutante. When I was twelve a boy had a seizure in my class. When I was twelve, my birthday. I thought I was ugly. When I was twelve I turned thirteen.
THIRTEEN
When I was thirteen I got into so much drama with my 8th grade “gang.” When I was thirteen I had a meeting with everyone who was involved in the issue. When I was thirteen I lost my best friend due to the fact of that drama. When I was thirteen I had graduation practice every day. When I was thirteen I continued dancing. When I was thirteen, on June 19, 2015, I walked across that stage. When I was thirteen I gained a new milestone.
FOURTEEN
When I was fourteen I started at Cooperative Arts and Humanities High School. When I was fourteen I gained some new friends. When I was fourteen I took a class that I hated. When I was fourteen I started thinking about my brother passing a lot more than I thought I would. When I was fourteen I met my “brother” Kevin Vick. When I was fourteen my grades started looking great!
FIFTEEN
When I was fifteen, I cut my hair short to 11 inches. When I was fifteen, I made some great friends, lost some friends, and I still managed to become the intelligent person I am today. Now that I’m fifteen I have gained the knowledge that everyone isn’t going be here for you like they claim they will. People nowadays are so temporary it’s ridiculous. But I know what’s right/wrong and what group of friends to hang out with and the ones to stay away from. When I was fifteen I got my first tattoo (right before my sixteenth birthday.) When I was fifteen I became infatuated with myself.
SIXTEEN
Now that I’m sixteen, my hair has grown almost 4 inches. I had some issues with getting my grades up, but I did it. Now that I’m sixteen I lost some toxic people in my life, because I started to see the changes in myself. Now that I’m sixteen my body is changing and I’m liking the changes I’m seeing, because when I was twelve I thought I was ugly. Now that I’m sixteen, I have started to realized my worth. I’m starting to appreciate the people I have in my life. Now that i’m sixteen I’m still finding myself, but I know what I want to be.

Dear Love,
Another Valentine’s Day spent alone. But it’s okay. I guess… I mean, I’m fine with being single. I know that when you want to come into my life you will. Maybe it’s just not the time for you to come bless my life with a wonderful person who cares for me. But it still hurts. It hurts to know that I’m not worthy of having you. And I’m not going to lie, sometimes I believe that I might never find you.
I’ve also lost you in so many different ways already that I’m getting tired. I want you, but I don’t all at the same time. I know, right. I start this letter off telling you that I want you in my life and then I go off saying that I’m not sure I even want you at all. But you have to understand, you can either make me or break me and I don’t think I’m ready to take that risk. I’m already so beaten up and broken I don’t think I could take another beating from you. You have been unfair with me all of my life. You took something so important away from me. Why can’t my father love me. Why can’t you allow him to care for me even if it’s just the slightest bit? I mean, I guess it’s not really that important since I have a father who does love me. But it still hurts to know that your biological father, the one whose DNA is running through your veins, doesn’t care for you like a father should. You can tell I’m still bitter about it. I don’t think there will ever be a day when I’m not upset about it. I’ve lost all hope when it comes to this situation and I’ve decided to stop trying to have a relationship with him. I guess it’s too late for you to make an appearance, so don’t bother.
Gosh, I’m really scatterbrained. I tell you to do something and then I contradict myself later on. Forgive me for being so indecisive, but when it comes to you I’m not sure what I want to do. You can add so much to my life, but you can also take so much and I’m not sure if I want to go through that. Wow, now I’m just repeating myself. It’s so hard to put these feelings into words. It’s like trying to explain the meaning of life. It’s impossible for me to explain why I want and don’t want you in my life. Please understand. For me, making this decision is as hard as deciding if I wanted my father in my life and we know how that ended. But, how are you going to know you weren’t there.
I guess this is all I have to say. No, I know I have more to say; I just don’t know how to word it so this will have to suffice for now. I’ll find the words to explain myself one day. Maybe.

Sincerely,
A lost soul searching for an answer

Perfectly Imperfect
Name Withheld 2/18

I am not perfect
But show me the perfect person
As I carry myself the way I do
You judge whether I'm good or bad
Whether you know me or not
You only see what I choose to show you
Judge tenderly - of me

As I mask my emotions with a smile
Forgive me if that bothers you
I will not apologize for what makes me comfortable
You do things your way, and I do them my way
Judge tenderly - of me

I'm a sinner
Just like everybody else
But I am not everybody else
I make mistakes
I learn from them
And I as grow and mature
I will still be perfectly imperfect
Judge tenderly - of me

Reality
Jamiah A. Green 12/17

Your parents yelled at you for something you wasn’t supposed to do
And you say your life is hard?
Don’t tell me that type of news

You got kids who sit here and suffer every day from abuse
Don’t got no food on the table
Only got one pair of shoes

Neighborhoods where you can turn the corner and somebody just got shot
Every five seconds of the day
Somebody laying dead on the block

Families who just lost everything and now living in the streets
Trying to scoop up some change
Just to get something to eat

Kids who get bullied because haters can’t reach their level
Haters who can’t do good
Because they always listening to the devil

Parents who cry at night because their child went missing
And after five years of looking
Received news that they wasn’t living

So me being a friend, I’m telling you your life is not hard
You have things others don’t have
Along with dreams and goals that can take you far

You could wake up in the morning feeling happy and sweet
Have a table full of food
A fresh pair of Jordans on your feet

You could have money and a nice place to stay
Doing good
And every night you're on your knees and you pray

I would continue with the list but I think you got the message
And I hope
That when you listened it had taught you a lesson

So again, your parents yelled at you for something you wasn’t supposed to do
And you say your life is hard
Don’t tell me that type of news

What you need to do is take a seat and snap back to reality
And just think
“How would I feel if I was in this tragedy?”

The Years
Jai’Dyn Johnson

2016
I wasn't always the prettiest nor the best person.
I wasn’t really that student to get high honors every marking period.
I’m trying my hardest to be the best I can be.
I told myself freshman year "This is the only year I'm gonna mess up on and that’s it."
Once first and second marking period of sophomore year came it was a breeze, but I was doing fine.
Third marking period came and I started slacking really bad.
The start of fourth marking period came and I was doing somewhat ok.
I won't be labeled as a letter nor a GPA score.
I’m me & I'm going to keep pushing for great.

2017
Junior year has approached I feel like this will be a great year.
I got honors for the first time in 9 years.
I got no help from anybody.
The only help I got was “Don’t mess around this year. It's most important.”
I had to find that out for myself.
And I had to want better grades for myself.
My GPA is a 2.55
Those three numbers don’t make me feel smarter
And they sure don’t define me
I am me.

You Must Know…
Erica Cardona 12/17

Before you dream of me tonight
You must know that I’m damaged.

For I see vibrant shades in your colorless world
I’d not want you to run into my arms with closed eyes
You must know that I’m shattered.
I push boundaries and question all,
while you follow blindly at their beck and call;
You must know that I’m broken.
And not the kind of broken you can fix; the type of broken you must learn from
My age of sufferance has ended,
moving forward and creating a balanced beginning
but you stand still.
You must know that I’m crushed and demolished,
And I yield the power to break you out from your comfortable world

Before you dream of me tonight…
you must know that I’m damaged.

*Lighter* 9-15-17
By Erica Cardona 12/17

Dear Diary,
Nevertheless, my soul aches for you.
Your grand design only signifies the turning of another page.

As one sun sets
a moon is born
cradled in stars.

In a pure form of love
another petal falls
I see through the haze…
your silhouette.

Ever so present is
the presence of life you emit.

My soul still aches for you…

Connection Failed
Daniella Ruiz 12/17

You received anonymous letters accompanied by flowers
And thoughtful text messages every couple of hours.
All the doors were held open for you,
A simple gesture you weren't used to.

Yes, these gestures are special
But it caused him to wrestle with his daily schedule.
The flowers began to fade away,
No more texts sent throughout the day,
And the doors were left shut blocking your walkway.

All the actions he took at the start
Led him to winning your heart.
But he began to slowly depart
And he lost his work of art.

I Am Fine But I Am Broken
Brookelyn Hazelwood 11/30

I am fine
But I was crying myself to sleep last night.

I am fine
But I spend my days wondering what I did so wrong.

I am fine
But I constantly ask myself “why?”

I am fine
But I break down and cry silently when no one is looking.

I am fine
Because I said so.

I am fine
But am I really?

I am broken
But I hide the fact that I cry myself to sleep.

I am broken
But I spend my days putting on an act.

I am broken
But I constantly tell others ‘I am fine.’

I am broken
But I laugh hysterically to prevent myself from crying.

I am broken
Because challenges I’ve been faced with made me this way.

I am broken
But “I am fine.”

Bodyguard of the Night
By Jasmine Cari-Pergee 11/17

There you are
Standing quietly, beautifully
Up all night patrolling
Unique

Beyond any species
Multi-colored
  Glazed bright
Green eyes

You are
Independent
  Strong
Capable

Keeping
The forest
  Safe always
For your family

A Home
by Gia Consiglio 10/17

I am glass
Fragile and capable of shattering with the slightest touch
They can see through me
But do they hear what goes on inside?

You are a center beam
Strong and tough to get through
With dry-wall and paint to cover and protect you
You are my support
Together we make a home
Where we are strong, together, and forever safe

I Write America
By Sophia Coppola

I write America for the men and women and people rising
above the voices
of Americans whose choices
are regarded as what is right
when we for so long have put up a fight
against the expectations,
the path we are put on

What is the American Dream?
A job, a husband and family to rely on?
The dream has changed
for me and a hundred, a thousand others
The dream has been redefined,
realigned
with the birth of a new generation
We are breaking away, so close to truly free
leading a revolution against what we are supposed to be
Free to choose our path
To love, to live with and without Americans whose dream we have pursued for so long
in a fruitless attempt to fulfill what they want
Who are they to say we’re wrong?

It is time to greet this new America with open arms
Leave behind all the harm
you have caused
left broken, battered, lost
Realize your position
Let it allow you to embrace this revolution
Come together as a generation
Now ask not who I write for, ask what
I am a voice of our new nation

I Write America
By Janiya Daniels

I write America because
America, you need to be better.

The land of the free is no longer together.
It gets worse by the day, more pain from each change.

This land is no longer the land,
the land of the great.

Divided.

Was that space ever filled?
I don't think it was, with the amount of brothers and sisters that have been killed

Acceptance

Is your mind even open?
Or are you too blind too see or too dumb to notice?

Unity

Why is there so much space between you and me?
Why is this tension so hard to break free from?

Free.

Don't you see? This isn't how its supposed to be.
America, we can all do this together.
come back bigger, better than ever.

There have been violence and riots.
One moment we're loud, but the next minute we're silent.

Break it.

Let go of the chains, get out of society's sick twisted game.
Trump, are you really making America great,
or taking two steps back and keeping things the same?

A Great Day
By Peter Hines

There’s a real problem in America
as we see the hatred and fire in the eyes of people
who are scared of the advancement
of a man with the skin that is dirty
or impure and it makes us feel so
unnatural, not human, not enough

Much can be said about how much people fear us
because all the hate is a psychological feeling
The fear of becoming equal

My momma told me that we gonna be Free At Last.
Ah; it's gonna be a great day!

My daddy told me a white man fears a man of color
because we have potential to be something great
That white America is soon gonna become dirty
and become impure and nasty
because people of color will soon have a say in our lives

Ah, it's gonna be a great day!

Would You Rather?
By Jamiah A. Green 10/17

Would you rather be full of greed
And suffer great misery
Or give as much as you can
To make the world a better place?

Would you rather have best friends
That use you for what they want,
Or have best friends
That stay loyal no matter what?

Would you rather give up on your hopes and dreams
And never make it somewhere far in life
Or step forward
And become someone meaningful to the world?

There is a choice in everything
So never say you don’t have one
Your decisions help make who you are
And what you will turn out to be.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Clouds
By Adia Sakura-Lemessy 12/17

1
To gaze at clouds
Through the lens
Of a wistful child with bright eyes
And a big imagination

2
To look at clouds
With frightful anticipation
As a storm approaches from afar

3
To watch the clouds
From a perch
With deep longing to touch them

4
To stare at clouds
Pining for wings
Wishing you could fly

5
To glare at clouds
That took your sunny skies
And ruined your day

6
To scrutinize clouds
Looking for shapes
In the white puffs

7
To glower at the cloud
That hovers above your head
And brings you despair

8
To take pleasure in clouds
With pensive admiration
And pure interest

9
To long for clouds
On clear days
To be your sunblock

10
To think about clouds
And wonder if they
Can take you from here

11
To ponder clouds
And who lives up so high
And how to get there

12
To consider clouds
And if their gaze
Is directed at you

13
To loathe clouds
For being something
You’ll never have.

For Better
Eliza Vargas 12/17

I’ve spent most of my life apologizing for things that aren’t my fault.
I allowed myself to fall for lies and half-truths.
So I’ve decided to do better for myself.

It hurt to have to cut off the toxic people,
but it felt good to finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
One thing that took me a while to understand
was that, sometimes, it’s okay to let go...even if it’s painful.

It hurts a lot to see where I’ve come from,
but I am stronger and I am done apologizing
for wanting better for myself.

Everything Ends
By Thomas Small 12/17

This sad young boy
With hopes and dreams
Will never live the life
The life he needs

Hurt so much
He lives his life
With so many scars

He wants him dead
To suffer unrelenting pain
To hurt and terrorize his brain

His own father
Not a man
The devil himself
But he bleeds

He cries for help
Praying to the heavens
He needs just one
Just one answer

As he beckons

He hears a cry
He opens his eyes
And there she lies

His own mother
She says
You must listen
And only then we will be together

I’m sorry son
I wish I were there
It's not your fault
It's mine
You must do what I couldn’t
Then end your life
Only then we will be with each other

If this is what I must do
Then so be it

He grabs a knife
Puts it under his pillow

Two weeks pass
He knew it would happen
His father tries to do it again
He's on his bed with his fingers tappin’

The boy is ready
To do what must be done

He grabs the knife
Slits the devil's throat
His father is no longer
That's all she wrote

He looks to the sky
Dreaming of what's next
Knowing that his next life will
Be better than his last

He actually does it
Puts everything to an end.

Where I Live
By Nadia Gaskins 11/17

There are one hundred bound pages that unlock as I mentally enter the unseen password releasing the concealed phrases. I like to sit within the lines of My Secret Holder in the dawn of foggy spring days and watch the enchantingly comforting words dance. The pages were a gift from my former pastor before I left my home. I had come and gone many times, never sure I would ever go back; it was suspected I wouldn't return alive.
I have lived here in these stitched, carefully-counted pages for two very long years, although it has felt like only a couple of days. I have learned to speak without words, and run away from society without looking back time and time again. This book is a keeper of my feelings, the key to my barely-held-together heart, an escape from this holding place for us, a cruel prison called life.
My share of the “American Dream” was not pleasant. My sanity lay three hundred thousand feet below a once-innocent face, hidden beneath the lies and secrets told by my closest friends, shattered by my deadly, sinful thoughts. Ink and paper collide causing a literary explosion, burning away the insults embedded in my soul. The back of this book is stained with the blood of a warrior too weak to fight back. Two years ago, I came across a lot of hardships; they were hard to endure, with razor-edged corners impossible to avoid and no visible support system. I didn’t expect to make it. Although there were prayers and words of wellness being spoken over me, it still didn’t make much of a difference. Things actually got worse. The reason I say this is because no matter how much I called on God or went to church, it felt like He didn't bother to respond.
Over the past two years, I have learned that it isn’t easy to be yourself. People will hate you though knowing so little about you, as long as you live society will give you a box to check, that I know a lot more than I think, that love has no labels, and that my blood-stained book saved me.

Take. Them. Back.
By Nadia Gaskins 11/17

I was NOT an average girl.
I was NOT what everyone wanted me to be.
I am still not
I am an outcast.

I never knew why people hated me.
Do I even want to know?
I feel like everyone is against me. Even though they say they love me.
They care, they’ll never hurt me.
(Scoffs)

Liars.
They hurt me.
They didn’t care.
They didn’t love me.
They walked away when I needed them most.

I WAS NOT AN AVERAGE GIRL!
I WAS HURTING.
I ALWAYS WORE A FAKE SMILE TO HIDE
MY BROKEN HEART.
I USED MY EYES, A DISGUISE,
THAT WAS MY SECRET ART.
I TOLD YOU I WASN’T OKAY.
YET, YOU REFUSED TO SEE IT.
SEE ME.

Now the thoughts run through my head like wildfire.
Spreading rapidly,
Scorching my peace,
Ruining my dreams,
Holding my goals to a million flames.

“Slut”
“Lesbian”
“Whore”
“Worthless”
“Useless”
“Waste of space”
“Disgrace”

You shot me down.
You stabbed me with your daggers.
You carelessly threw these insults at me.
Day after day.
You tortured me.

Is it true?
Is it all true?
Yes!
No!
Yes?
No?
Yes
No.

This is what you spit in my face.
This is what you destroyed my life with.
That hole in your face that opened wide,
Revealing rows of missiles.

Leaving me to lick my wounds.
Laughing as I struggled to breathe.
Strangling me with transparent hands.
Kicking my shattered ribs.

You don’t care that you hurt me.
Do you?
Do you care that you were the cause of my many self-inflicted wars?
“No.”
I thought not.

You messed up.
Truly you did.
You disregarded everything that I said.
Everything I did.
I was covering up the pain.
The hurt.
The disappointment.
You ignored me.
You never sought out the truth.
That was your fatal mistake.

I refuse to slaughter myself with your sharp words.
Take. Them. Back.

Would It Be Any Different?
By Ioanis Torres

YOUR baby is gone
   your BABY is gone
       your baby IS gone
your baby is GONE

At times I wonder…
What it would've been like to have him here
Would mom be any different?

Mom
That’s all I can think about when I hear about him.

Sometimes I can imagine the little bundle of joy resting in her arms
His little hands reaching over to grab onto her finger just to feel her warmth
That’s what you feel when you’re near my mother, warmth

I can almost hear his cries and his whimpering
As he is taken away from what makes him feel safe.

Sometimes I wonder…
If he would have been born would my life be any different
Would we be struggling more than we are now?
Is he okay wherever he is?
Is he up somewhere in the sky waiting for us to come find him?
Waiting to feel the warmth that my mom provides him

MOM you are so warm
Mom YOU are so warm
   Mom you ARE so warm
Mom you are SO warm
Mom you are so WARM

The Beginning of Tomorrow, Today
By Eliza Vargas 9/17

Yesterday two different stories mended so perfectly to make me,
and yet I don’t even know them.

Tomorrow you are one half of my story,
but I am also one half of yours
Be powerful, be ambitious, be great, but most importantly be YOU.

Today I am not my body parts. I am not my race.
I am not my intelligence.
I am the beginning of a sentence that has yet to end.

I am my past.
I am my tomorrow.
I am my present.

What My Mama Taught Me
By Brookelyn Hazelwood

1) You were the depression
My heart was not ready for.
You didn’t care; that part was clear.
I screamed my cry desperately
But you acted like you could not hear.

2) Why did you overlook the hurt I was feeling on the inside?

3) I wanted to think you still loved me.
No, I wanted to believe it.
My trust in you has vanished
Because you said you loved me
But didn’t mean it.

4) The countless number of times you treated me badly
Outweigh the good times.
Remembrance of our happy moments almost makes me miss you.
That process was too dreadful to go through again.

5) Forgiveness is what my mama taught me.
But, I will never forget all the chaos you put me through.
All the lies I told for you,
All the sleepless nights I had.

6) I’ll never allow someone to take away my worth again.
The best decision was blocking someone I did not realize
Was so toxic out of my life.
For good.

7) The purpose of this is to say,
I loved you but you were too blind to see.
You made me the girl I am today
No, the strong and beautiful woman.

8) How does it feel to be forgotten
By someone you never thought
Would leave?

Emulation of “The Healing Process” By Jailene Pellot