• Always Alone
• Drunk
• Secrets
• Ugly Girl
• Pity
• The Lucky Ones
• Death
• Rust
• Broken Mirror
• A Creed To Live By
• I Got Lost In You
• touch
• Never Too Proud
• How does it feel?
• Drunk
• Night Sky
• Piano Man
• confusion & disillusion
• Mirror
• The Man in Gray
• Love
• Pain of Tears
• June 12, 1999
• Sleep
• On A Cold Winters Day
• Had a Heart
• Something Inside Me
• How Impactful It May Be
• Twelfth Strike of Midnight
• Tunnel
• What I Have to Say

• The Third Eye
• How Impactful It May Be 

• Childhood Ended
• The Alienated Man
• A Fight for Freedom
• Timing

A sword unto its sheath

Doth outdo the archer's bow,

For with but swipe and thrust

Of sword's steel teeth

Deeply strikes the death blow.

Bury sword up to gleaming hilt,

Bear self on bloody breast,

But arrows leave but grazing wound;

love or fear doth fill'd,

Place its power to the test.

A deeper stronger score,

Caus'd by harder faster blow,

Needs no barbs or shafts

To rend my veins, blood on floor

A deeper thing it does sow.

So pours streams of crimson

Does love akin doth weep

For to, what can love grow into,

on pain of labours done,

what pleasures can we reap?

Always alone
admiring from a distance
never knowing what it's like
to feel her love.

Trying to hint
but afraid to be to outward
she could reject
but what if she won't?

Always looking
seeing her perfect features
knowing her perfect personality
But never knowing her touch.

Pulse quickens
when she walks by
you fall all over yourself
to just say "hi."

Heart pains
to know that she'll
never know how you feel
an invisible man.

Different worlds
that we come from
gaps love could
if you'd just give it a chance.

One chance
a roll of the dice

could change us both for the better
or ruin us completely as friends.

Seen it before
Friendship, love, hate
the vicious circle.

Can never settle
you are the one.

My life continues
without you.

The lucky ones aren't always so lucky

Outsides are decieving

Their faces smile while their souls cry

Cry not to be heard

But to be listened to

Painted on smiles like a china doll

Behind those eye-shadowed eyes

Lies their bleak and empty grief

Their minds burn like fire

Wanting to shout, "I look happy but I'm dying"

You may look happy with material things, but are you?

The lucky ones aren't always so lucky

Alyssa is a 15 year old sophmore in Beaverton Oregon who along with writing, LOVES to dance and be with her  friends. She plans to move to Seattle when she can, and keep writing.

A lady sits on a bench in the park

gnarled hands resting their age on her lap

worn cane nestling close

to stalkings that sag on old bruised legs.

Sharp eyes

ease shut for a moment

allowing this break

to cleanse and refresh

and sharp ears

let the cries of a child

slide inside.

Eyes flick open

and rest upon a small

tear-stained face,

almost flooded with

the torrential salty water.

Petite body

wrapped

in garbage bags

in an attempt to keep some heat.

Eyes close again,

attempting to block it out,

and once more,

sharp ears,

catch the tunes of three men

singing between huffs of cigarettes.

Worn eyes

flick open,

to see wrinkled hats,

pleadingly extended to

people passing in buisness suits,

hoping for a friendly buck or two.

Sagging stalkings straighten,

as aching feet resume their upright position,

in padded walking shoes.

Somehow the ache has been forgotten,

and a new pain has been brought upon,

an aging heart.

The lady continues

on her walk through life,

but the sounds and sights,

from the view on the bench are always on her mind.

The darkness was forever, as far as i could see.

Like deaths shroud surrounding, forever enclosing me.

A blanket of darkness consumed me, seeping into my soul.

Slowly darkening my heart, until it was black as coal.

I blindly searched the darkness, for just one glimpse of light.

But all I saw was pitch black, like a never ending night.

And then out of the darkness, came two horrific eyes.

Blazing like two fires, with a hate that never dies.

And that is when I heard them, the horrible cries of pain.

Screaming for their mercy, begging to be slain.

But in hell there's no mercy, just a pain that never ends.

A soul that's never filled, a wound that never mends.

And an emptiness in your heart, that nothing can ever fill.

And the worst is knowing, that nothing ever will.

Through the broken mirror I see forgiving eyes.

I see a place that yet ruined by nightmares and ugly thoughts.

I see a flowing river of dreams that are still fresh and real.

I see people laughing not at somebody but for somebody.

Since the mirror is broken I can not see it all,

There are dim faded sections and

Fragmented slivers that are bare and desolate .

I see a happy family but where the father was there is a gaping hole.

I see a smiling child but where the house was is a cracked empty shack.

When I look at the broken mirror I keep wishing it was whole

But with time it does not heal,

I just gets worse and I realize that the empty holes are mistakes people

made and

The cracks are dreams people forgot about and that all the world is ,

Broken Mirror.

My name is Jamie and I am a seventh grader and LOVE to read and enjoy writing.

Discreet

 And eaten by the warm breath of a deceased summer

 Somewhere, someone tries to please

 And another body bag zips closed

 Lie down and turn over

 What a manic breeze can do to your back

 What a manic species will

 And I fall

 No pity, please

 No pity

 We cannot survive your pity

 Killed, and thus done by the warm breath of a long passed friend

 Someone who was more than a nothing

 Yet not quite a something

 And eaten by the mouth of eternity

 And killed by the vibrant memory of a well-known song

 Your soul no longer sings

 Pity

 No, please,

 no pity

 I could not survive our pity

moderately attractive 
strange
exotic
unique
all the words
 that my self-esteem
 deemed me
no one ever told me that i was pretty
i thought that my eyes
implied beauty.
i felt good about myself.

because no one ever told me i was an ugly girl

my self esteem
was supposed to be a good thing
not armor against the real world
and i was so sell out
 to hair dye
 maybelline
 and my big sister's
 tight-fitting loose moralled camisoles

no one ever told me i was an ugly girl

my long blonde hair
 turned ashen
open blue eyes
 grew clouded a shade
 for every new rejection
my individual smile
 was tidily gift-wrapped with scabs and chapped gloss
 on the day i found out that i was an ugly girl

artistry was no exception
individuality was no solace
platoniclove was no quencher

no one ever told me i was an ugly girl

I walked through an unfamiliar park

And thought of you

So dashing and charming

The first day we met

Shy glances, rough conversations

Standing behind, keeping me warm

Smiling shyly at your handsome features

Blonde and blue

So honest and admirable

I lost myself in you

I sat and watched the stars fly above

And I thought of you

Of your kind face and tan skin

Your dark hair that I used to make fun of

I thought of your gentle eyes that I used to lose myself in

I thought of your heart, so true

The time we spent together, before and after

In all honesty

I lost myself in you

You came along

Won my heart

A gift one had not been given in so long

Not the person I’d usually date

Looking at the circumstances

Long hair

Lopsided smile

Falling in love with the wrong reasons

Trying so hard to stay on cue

I lost myself in you

Now I remember all the loves of my life

And I think of where they fit in

Who comes first

Who comes last

Who’s worth remembering

Who’s worth forgetting

And I can’t help but smile at the good memories

And nearly cry at the bad

The days spent alone together in the sun

Or cuddled up on the couch, watching the rain

Your curly hair that was so fine to run my fingers through

Your hazel eyes so pure

The lithe body, short in stature

Your big heart, compassionate soul

I think of all the things you did for me

And the things that I did too

Best friend, boyfriend

I lost myself in you

No chance

No way

You’re too gorgeous

Too unlike myself

And yet, a cosmic connection is made

Those blue eyes, glowing in the dim light

That body, muscular and fine

Holding me tight as we sit on the floor

Keeping me warm as we sit by the water

Pushing you in

You taking me with you

I remember that night so well

And I wonder if you think of me

I wonder if you get lost in me

Like I get lost in you

A lot of things to remember

Not too painful

Sometimes hard if it ended rough

But all the joy that came

That’s more than enough

Remembering each of their eyes

Even the ones that were just “the guys”

The serious ones sometimes fade

The flings can usually stand the flame

The thorns were the fights

The petals the bliss

So each romance is like a rose’s stem

And they’ll forever live on in this heart

Simply because

I got lost in them

My conscience got

The best of me again

I couldn’t lie to her anymore

She’d been like my best friend

I felt like breakin’ down

I thought that I would cry

I told her the whole story

Held the tears back with a sigh

She yelled at me with anger

Then she fell into my arms

She had a knack for gaining sympathy

It was always one of her many charms

She asked me why I told her

I said I didn’t know

She asked me what to do about it

I said she’d know which way to go

Then we talked for hours

Or at least the minutes seemed that way

It’s strange how people react

When you’ve got nothing to say

I told her I was sorry

She said she didn’t care

I tried to stop her leaving

But she just left me there

I haven’t seen her since

But that song keeps playing in my mind

I don’t think we’ll ever be the same

Reality can be unkind

I sit alone in my room

And think about how I told her

I suppose I might’ve worded it differently

I wish I’d had the courage to hold her

Surprise was not quite my reaction

Disappointment was a better fit

I lament, I should’ve used my head

I cry, I could’ve used my wit

It looked to me like she was hurt

By the rashness of my decree

She wept for fear as much as pain

But she didn’t sob for me

She said I must be kidding

I said I wouldn’t dare

She mumbled about how she’d have to think

All this idiot could do was stare

She walked away so slow, it seemed

Time’s tough to tell when your heart breaks in two

I can’t believe she turned away

All I said was “I love you”

finding-

what i finally want,

someone:

that is my sun

my moon

my stars

and clouds.

i saw it-

in my real world

she has to be poetic-

with her curves

and her sensual . . .

touch.

a touch that begins on my left cheek

(somewhere between my left eye and left ear)

and slowly and softly

(all this time their is no sound)

makes it's way to my upper lip

innocently caressing the spot beween my nose and chin

(her index finger slightly to the right)

all this time my eyes were closed

never feeling all alone

but the touch . . .

(it will never feel the same)

was somewhat akwardly beautiful

and it didn't stop at the spot between my nose and chin.

it made it's way to the left side of my chest

(but it only stopped there for half of a second)

but long enough to make my heart stop

if only for eternity.

my eternity only seems to last for somewhere around two months,

at least that's my understanding

an understanding i earned through experience.

the experience of her touch making it's way back towards my right arm

her fingers followed the paths of my veins

the paths of my blood.

a touch was what brought me here.

she sat alone in the shadows
     of a garden unkept
with petals hidden away
held tightly together
within closed sepals.
     amidst weeds
dangling around her
entangled with
scattered leaves
unraked from last fall.

a darkened streak
     appears
where a beetle
having skillfully landed
gently pries against
the sepal;
     the rose
still unwilling to open.

his shell
     shining under
scorching sun.
bearing forward--
caressing,
scratching
     in ardent strength.
tearing through--
unyielding,
petal by pink
petal.

having reached
the heart of the rose,
he ends his search--
disappointed--
having found nothing new,
crawls aimlessly to the top
leaving behind
a mess of an opened flower.

the beetle stands
     atop the torn rose
with the petty triumph
of a small god of destruction,
six arms pinning down the prey,
opening his shell
with wings spread --
buzzing into the stench
of a summer afternoon
in dull drone.

the rose--
alone
     like a child,
having seen
and felt--
but unable to act--
alone
as the night falls softly
and the cold winds kept on.

wilted petals
strewn out on a late summer's lawn
early one morning
where a drop of dew
creeps upon the a petal's edge--
     crimson--
like saline tears
on the corners of her eyes.

How does it feel

to realize

what you have done?

How does it feel

to go to sleep

at night knowing

that you have hurt

someone so special?

How does it feel

to know that you

may be forgiven but

your mistake will never be forgotten?

How does it feel

to realize your best friend

has now become

your arch rival?

How does it feel

to finally wake up

and discover that

your own worst enemy

is yourself?

On a cold winters day,

my mind begins to explore the memories

to which I hold...

The happiness of friendships,

the giggling and tears of a sister that

I would hold as though she were the age of one.

The snowy days when the sleds were pulled

from the place thay hid until the next winters snow.

I remember the stories my mom used to tell on

Christmas Eve so long ago and the tree that lit the room where "JOLLY OLD SAINT NICK" would soon eat his cookies and milk, and I would sleep,

resting peacefully hoping morning would come soon.

On a cold winters day my mind begins to explore. The memories of laughter and the happiness of a child so young and dear.

Drunk on the pleasures of life.

feeling more than tipsy,

I stumble into the formidable,

and find myself suddenly missing

the source of my addiction.

I curse myself and sob and scream,

wanting once again to be high,

once again to feel fresh.

Like I once held within me

the charisma of a succulent rose.

But now I'm turning brown, wilting

and sadly watching others still blindly drunk.

I wish I could be them,

but I realize if I can't regain the pleasures of life through life,

I'll find peace again in an eternal slumber.

When I look out to the night sky

Up at the stars

I often wonder if

At that same moment

The one I'm meant to be with

Is looking at that exact same star

If so...

I wish we had eyes for each other

Rather than eyes for the stars

Silenced melodies

flocked into your imagination,

Notes gathered upon the yellowed

paper,

As your fingers daintily caressed

those black and white keys

lined up in your assembly,

you smiled for somewhere far off,

And played for me

I sank deeply into the rhythm

of your images and lives,

music held you together

until all the pages crumbled

and all the notes bled off the staves,

Dark eyes shined once in inspiration

callused fingers told stories of

late nights and self neglect,

A proud stature covered your fatigue,

Drawn too deep into perfection

Confusion and illusions

convulsed in ignored tremors,

Tears cleansed your piano keys

because that's all they were good for,

I envied the artist in you,

but your cancerous obsession

killed the love,

for the music,

you played.

I woke up one morning
Looked in the mirror
And realized that I was not who I should be
I walked through the rain
Cried tears of disbelief
And lost myself in the dreary day
That night I stopped again before the cool reflection
And wondered aloud to myself
"Who would miss me?"
And I paused
Glanced at the scissors sitting on my desk
Sharp blades
Made of steel
And I shivered
And walked out of my room

Another day passed and I flew to the moon
A drug so small made me fly so high
I danced in the moonlight
And swam in the lake
And I lost myself in his body
And the next morning I didn't know who I was
Or where I was
Or where I'd been
And I looked again in a mirror
And became lost in the person that was reflected there

Yesterday I was in a unfamiliar place
That I once called my second home
Pictures of myself and another girl plastered the walls
And I cried, staring at the memories I'd forgotten
Her mom entered the room
Eyes red
Lips shaking
And hugged me like she used to when I always came for another sleep over
Neither of us could believe she'd ended her life

I climb the stairs to my own room
And for once look at the happy memories from my past
And I see her face
Smiling, laughing, pouting
At me
At the camera
For the world to see
So caught up in losing weight that wasn't there
Obsession overcame what she knew
And, too frustrated with herself and the unfair world,
Ended her greatness

Tears streaming
I look again at my reflection
And I realize those gray mornings
That I woke with
Feeling intimidated and unrefined
Were bogus
Because someone loved me
And even though our souls had separated
She cared, deep down
And I cared, too, deep down
But our two worlds didn't collide
And save one another
Until now

My hair is mussed
My eyes are dull
My body too thin for a normal person
The drugs have caused me to lose my shine
They took my best friend's life
So now I must fight
I must win
To pay her back for rescuing me
From an early death
I stand
Look at the crystal that holds the power to reflect
And I hurl the frame of two little girls
Who were lost and scared
And the magic crumbles beneath the weight
I hear it crack and shatter
And I smile
Because something inside me
Snapped
And I felt the old me
The real me
Return
I am
Born free

The night-time train howls on by, stars light up the sky
Passing cars shine their lights, I daren’t look down from this high
Streetlights light up the misty street
The distant sound of creeping feet
The moon sits lonely looking down past the stars
If only its light would some how charge me
I wait patiently for the twelfth strike of midnight.

The darkness blooms like a poisoned flower, the footsteps appear to be
louder
Whispers echo down the drainpipes, pebbles pass through the lights
Shadows form on the broken wall
The footsteps tumble and fall
The angelic silence is persistence and thunder
I try to get up with all my might
To make it in time for the twelfth strike of midnight.

The wind whispers to the trees, the cold has a strange kind of heat
The windows are covered by blinds, the smoke ring mist is right behind
A stranger in a dark coat passes me by
When he gets near he just sighs
Then a storm blows and I fall to the hard, cold floor
It surges like the crashing bells that toll
Surging like the twelfth strike of midnight.

I hear a phone echo down the road, but where it’s coming from I do not know
I hear a scream so crisp and clear, The stranger and I pretend we can’t hear
The wind howls, I put my hands over my ears
The cold, sad night has caused these tears
I tell everyone how I feel but they can only sympathise with themselves
Missing only the ones they’ll never see again
And the sound of the twelfth strike of midnight.

Silence is this town’s native tongue, everyone denies there is something
wrong
The very houses seem asleep, I begin to feel pain in my feet
The shadows on the broken wall
Begin to tumble and fall
I think they call this daytime but I can’t be sure
A young small man holds out his mercury hand
Now I wait again for the twelfth strike of midnight.

Her legs might not work like mine do
And she might not walk like me
But she does have something inside her
That lets her accept muscular dystrophy

She cannot run the bases
So she hits it out of the park
She cannot walk long distances
So we jump into her cart

But she can warm your heart
With a smile or a hug
And that's because it's not her body
But her soul that we love

She's not ashamed of who she is
Or too proud to ask for help
But even though she doesn't show it
I can't imagine the pain she's felt

She never makes excuses
But gives 100% instead
She lives up to her promises
And doesn't hang her head

I cannot imagine a life without her
She makes my clouds disappear
That is why she's something in my heart
That I hold so dear

She is my best friend
She is my guiding light
Alone we both go no where
But together we reach new heights

The picture is of me and my best friend Park to whom my poem is dedicated
and about.

through the drawn window shades,
silence is awake,
and the sky changes hues,
peace has found,
the keepers of the dreams,
but the dreams keep the keepers,
cause dreams are reality.

and sleep will not come,
under the blanketed skies,
and sleep will not come.

mischievous eyes wander the clouded streets,
the clock continues ticking steadily,
and for a moment I lose myself,
wrapped up within unconciousness,
before long reality appears,
the blanketed skies part majestically
the moon makes its way through the sky.

and sleep will not come,
under the blanketed skies,
and sleep will not come.

the hue around my eyes begin to change,
for something new, yet something all the same,
the sun peaks above the horizon,
grinning in melancholy delight,
making wonders wait, for the light,
and through those drawn windows shades,
the darkness of the night fades,
and the world is anew.

and sleep will not come,
under the blanketed skies,
and still sleep has not come.

When I smiled at you, I felt all warm inside
I was so blind, but now my love has grown
My undying love for you I cannot hide
My love for you, for eternity, all I ever known
Why am I shy around you, and slink away?
I love you a lot, forever, you know that part
Why when I'm around you, there is nothing to say?
You know, you will always have a place in my
                                       heart
I've liked you for so long
I've known you, all my child years
My inexperienced love is all gone
You help me, overcome my fears
So now I've come to say
Please don't forget me, and never go away

I am in a tunnel.
It is long and dark and I can not see the end.
There is a small flame burning down the tunnels.
I walk to the flame, it is a long walk.
From the outside of the tunnel, I hear my friends and family yelling at me.
The flame is hot and it will burn you, they say,
turn back before it is to late!
I will not listen to them, I am walking to the flame.
I am cold and I want the warmth of the flame, and the bright light it
shines.
I reach the flame, it is so bright and warm against my skin, in this cold
tunnel.
It gives off such warmth I want touch the flame.
I touch the flame and I feel a scorching sensation through out my body,
the flame burns me and then goes out.
Now I am alone in this tunnel, cold, alone, and burned.
Waiting for the next flame to come along, in hope it doesn't burn me again.

Don't be upset because of evil people,
Don't be jealous of those who do wrong.
Like the grass, they will soon dry up,
Like flowers, they will soon wilt away.
Don't worry about the food you need to live,
Don't worry about the clothes you need for your body,
Life is more important than food,
The body is more important than clothes.
Give all your worries to the Lord,
He will take care of you,
He will never let good people down.
People will say bad things about you and hurt you,
They will lie and say all kinds of awful things about you,
But when they do these things to you, don't be upset,
Don't get angry; it will only lead to trouble.
The best way to make a good friend is to be a good friend.
By yourself you are alone, but with a friend you're a team of two.
If you want to lose friends quickly, start bragging about yourself,
If you want to make and keep friends, start bragging about others.
When you are proud and stuck-up, everyone is happy when you fail,
But when you are humble and serving, everyone is happy when you succeed.
If you can't trust everything a person says,
You can't trust anything he or she says.
Don't be a "Me, too" person. Learn to think and speak for yourself.

 My friend, I cry for you.
 I feel your pain echoing between us
 and I would take this heartache
 from you and give you peace.

 Give you the strength to love life
 and find rest from the burdens
 that weigh on you like stones.

 My friend, you can survive.
 Because I am there for you
 and I will always be here
 my sister in spirit.

 I will never hurt you and
 I will never leave you alone
 Believe in life and the hope of love.

 Never think or wish for death.
 There is no point in death,
 no point in thoughts like these.
 What would it bring you, my friend?

 It cannot keep us together
 for I am to live
 and I want you with me.

 Only the strong can love life,
 and you, my friend,
 are stronger than you know.

 You have me to help and guide you.
 We support each other
 and find new strength
 in the trials we face together.

 I want to walk with you beside me
 through the path chosen for us.
 Without you, my steps might falter.

 My world would be dimmer,
 but I would face any pain
 knowing that you are my friend
 and will love life as I do.

 My friend, I am here for you
 and I cry for you.
 We can survive the pain of tears.

The feeble horizon drew closer.
It was windy outside, the trees dropped sullenly, too afraid of the sky.
Rust turned my childhood bike a deep brown.
I wondered if all memories dwindle away, or if nothing truly succumbs.
But it all seemed so annihilative.

The dust and sand picked up, as the wind
yielded its' ingredients to the sun;
Holding Earth with its' golden, yet flimsy arms.

The rain swept in.
The sky's incessant cries gave new life to
Earth's sickly cells.
It flourished in great respects,
 yet I never felt refreshed.
I was rust, still holding onto my past.

Steer away from the pain
Leave the anger and frustration
What is done is done
Nothing to relieve aggravation
Love hurts and pains
But what in life doesn’t
I want to live and love and laugh
Yet something in me says, “you mustn’t”
My future is undecided
A blur of confusion, painted by numbers
Mixed colors and disillusion
That is my fate…

I've been writing stories forever. I've just recently decided to start writing peotry. This is one of my first tries, therefore it really isn't the best.

When i first met you,
i was happy.
You laughed and smiled.
But you weren't interested;
or so it seemed.
How was i to know what you
thought, what you dreamed?
Then the tables turned,
it was you pursuing me;
My thoughts were clouded
in surprise and vanity.
Then six long months
came and went,
Your love for me
was all but spent.
We grew apart,
a silly fight.
Someone like me
is ALWAYS right.
Then once again,
one normal day
i began to
feel THAT way.
I was too late;
That i knew,
And your girlfriend,
she did too.
You were so good
That now i know
I always loved you,
But you can't know.

Let's see. This piece is reflective of a time that has changed me forever. I had stopped eating after a fight with two of my "good" friends. The person i have written about, put up with all my problems and gave me confidence.  But i only learned how important he was when it was too late.

The mirror is my enemy
The clock is not my friend
Pain is like my shadow
My bad luck will never end
My face isn't beautiful and it will never be

My heart is very cold and it is in agony
The sun never shines in my life
It always seems to rain
For my life consists of misery, of sadness, and of pain

My name is Victoria(16) and I am the author of "Mirror". I really love to write poetry and stories on my spare time. I think that poetry is the best way to express ourselves and I also take a lot of pride in my work.

I had a heart that once was true
And now its gone from me to you
So take good care of it, as I have done
For now you have two and I have none

Once I get to Heaven and you're not there
I will wait for you by the golden stair
And if you're not there by judgment day
I'll know you've gone the other way

So I will trade in my golden wings
And all my other precious things
And just to prove my love is true
I'll go to Hell to be with you

"Who is the man in the boat, my friend?
Who is the man in gray?
I think it a quite clever and curious endeavor
You went on with him that day.

Who is the man in the boat, my friend?
Who is the man in gray?
You gave him a flower in return for the power
Of teaching you the right way."

Who is the man in the boat, you ask?
Who is the man in gray?
Inside your thoughts you may say it was God
The one who won't lead you astray.

Who is the man in the boat, you ask?
Who is the man in gray?
I cannot say it was He for I do not believe
In God, or anything that way.

Who is the man in the boat, you ask?
Who is the man in gray?
I gave him the flower and also the power
Of being my God for the day.

Dedicated to Cal and Chris...

Jo is a junior in high school in a small Ohio town. She is a musician, a writer, and photographer for many area organizations, and spends whatever free time she has on her poetry and her webpage. She enjoys writing poetry and has been doing so for about two years.

I hope you like this poem, and I love your site! There's a lot of information!!

The most ironic thing in the world would be if a fire were to be sparked by a bell during a routine fire drill.
Such an idea could only be written by the gloomful mind of a colorful sketch artist.
Sometimes the tiniest, most minute instances can very easily change your life.

Get this wall out of my face before it explodes into one hundred years of incurable disease.
How tragic - that a mind so frail could have so much power.
Never to be used for anything, he just plays his fiddle as Rome burns.
This is up to you. Darwin called it 'survival of the fittest',
The law to which nature abides in order for the process of natural selection to occur.
Humanity over time has drifted away from this idea.
But what if society fails.

He has taken away the laws that prevent natural selection by his lack of action.
It is up to you to start the fire.

When the proclaimed intelligents cannot turn to the law
many will be helpless against the strong.

Tell them to stop looking at you for a response.
Take your dignity and be independent of those who fight for unjust causes.

Stand up not to fight for your parents, or to fight specifically against them,
But for what you believe to be true.
Tell them that you are tired of this ignorance.
Start the fire, but do not run away.
Stand up for what you believe in.
When they question you, just make sure the fire is justified.
If it is not justified then you are merely an arsonist.

Never focus and not listen, this is the cause of many accidents.
A consequence only seen by a true intelligent.

About the author of How Impactful It May Be. This writing is about the children of the world. It's about deciding that you are capable of making your own rules and desires. This may seem a little adult for a teen site, but i personally feel too much time is wasted on teenage desires. There comes a time when there has to be a change, too many people stumble through life using the 'it's okay i was young' line. Regardless of age, people should be held accountable for their actions, once they are physiologically able to think for themselves. The main cause of children acting like children, is conformity. Without conforming to societal norms (ie. popular but not right), there would be no social stratifications. Without these layers, i personally believe that things such as the Colombine tragedy would never have occurred. Yet, after the tragedy we blame the parents, even though they are not to blame. i mean if i wanted to kill someone i would, regardless of what my parents did.

People should be held responsible for their actions and should decide why they are on earth. i'm sure who ever created us did not create us so that we could kill each other. i'm asking that everyone who is reading this to think about why: the meaning of life, if you will, only then will you understand that just being popular, does not serve such great of purpose in the grand scheme of things. Another idea that is discussed, is the difference between 'street smart' and 'book smart'. i believe that there is no difference, people should be regarded as smart. It takes more to be just 'book smart' or 'street smart'. In order to be a true intelligent, there has to be desire, reasoning, and courage. Real intelligence is based on how much you contribute to further humankind.

A couple of minutes, we have. Long enough?

Yes, you say … and I see three eyes.

A different day, and perhaps the same. The hum is quiet and regular, lights

are on and the train enters the underworlds of the city. I think about past

days and I think about you. I seek glory and fear shame, I sense something…

Your tears, salty and sharp, cried silently, as I lost all expression. It

hurts, my love. But that does not matter…

A silent station passed without a stop, how empty is the world? Perhaps as

empty as the face I see in the window. Expression I can not name … oh … just

an other thing I can not … do not know.

Darkness runs by, a film of nothingness but my face. Half covered, half

shinning. Staring at me from the darkness, where evil demons reside, it’s

myself and … an eye.

Our lips part, you hold me close, the sensation lasts for a while. My eyes

are closed. A dumb feeling sets in, fear perhaps. My eyes are closed, but I

guess that you can see … the third eye, the evil in me.

There was a time when there was a promise made between my best friend and I to stay best friends forever. That promise has been strengthened, lost, broken, rekindled, put through hell, and it still came back a promise.

We've done everything together. From taking baths together at two years of age, to sharing milk in 3rd grade, to learning how to skateboard. We've argued over what to play, a hard decision when we were little... Barbie dolls or G.I. Joe! We've raced and laughed, we've joked and made each other cry! I've talked his head off about how sweet my boyfriends are and then went back to cry on his shoulder when we broke up.

We made friends with each  others family, we've argued over teams and bonded over Dominoes and loud music. We seriously dated, kind of fell in love! But even after broken hearts, and the rudeness we've given to each other the two of us still remember and respond to that promise! So if a promise is made, keep it... if a promise is broken, mend it, and if a friendship is hurt, help it! 

I'm a 15 year old who loves writing... mainly poetry, but I only write from my heart! LYA, Angel143

The night I was abducted, was just like any ordinary cool night. The stars gleamed down on me as I drove my 69' Firebird down the dark highway. I felt like I was in some kind of 1958 movie, just cruisin' down the highway, with nothing to fear, and nothing to stop me. That day I had a few drinks, nothing more than a harmless can of Miller Lite. I planned to head over to my mother's house. I was already late since I stayed longer than I expected at the party. While driving, I flicked the switch to the audio deck on; old jazz boomed out. The harmony had me bobbing my head.

 While driving, I felt a sudden sleepiness drift on me. I began thinking, should I pull over and rest a while. My eyes focused on the streets hesitated, my mind drilled this thought into my head. Minutes later I just kept on going. Figuring that it was only a matter of time before I made it to my destination. But my sleepiness took over me, causing me to get bleary eyed, I began to fade out quickly.

WHERE AM I?

 I opened my eyes looking at a odd shape ceiling. I felt my back laying across a cold flat metal-type board. It immoblized my back. I was in some kind of room. I twisted my neck to the side, looking frantically to see where I was. Next to me was a small-thing. What was it? I blinked my eyes again to regain focus on this unknown being. Was it human? I said in my mind. No, it can't be. This small thing had huge black eyes, that reflected nothing but darkness. This thing had a huge head, his skin color was grey. Now I knew this thing wasn't human. I turned my head to the other side of me to see the exact same replicas of what I saw on the other side of me. Then I peered to the front of me, looking at the wall, their hung from the wall, a golden plate with, "Auslander Oblivion Craft," written on it. I thought a second, then glanced at these things on the side of me. And then it popped in my head. These are aliens!

 I frantically struggled to move, but it was no use, they'd paralyze me from the neck down. I manage to let out a hopeless scream. "Help!," is what I said, but my voice faded right into the walls. As I glared at these tiny people again, one had a strange thermometer like object in its hand. The object was very sharp, he held my head down with his other hand. From the looks of it, I'd say he was going to insert that into my brain.

"No!" I screamed, but once again again, it was useless. I felt a throbbing pain as it went into my head, but then the pain eased. After hey finished probing me, they vanished into thin air. Then small, green, fat goblins like creatures came in and removed me from the table, carrying me on top of  their heads.

I'LL NEVER BE THE SAME.

 Back in my home town, things were a little erie, people looked at me different after I told my story to several publishers. they thought of me no more than a low-life scum. Why? They thought I was embarrassing and exploiting the town. Just because I had enough guts to come and speak about my unknown journey I had with these unknown people. Through the week I received letters telling me that I should leave and never come back. And that's what I did. Following the direction of the wind, which had blown opposite of that so-called "friendly-town."

MY NEW LIFE.

 After the accident and everything else. I had my name changed, and abounded my stories around the city under various other names to protect my new identity. I became recognized by others who were also abducted, who had similar experiences. Although I may look normal, there is a paranoia living inside of me that won't go way. It keeps me up at night, turning my head on the streets. Even though I am in a new place, with a new identity, I still cannot hide myself from the beings or aliens in other words that took me on a unforgettable terrifying journey that I will never forget.

Sequel to THE ALIENATED MAN coming soon!

The year is 1420, from the back of a dark alley, a baby's cry could be heard. A policeman walking by heard the cry and went to investigate. He found the little baby lying next to the murdered corpse of it's mother.

Overcome with anger and disgust, the policeman picked up the baby and returned to the police station. Later on, a lady from the local orphanage agreed to take the poor baby in. The owner named the baby Mary Doeth, after herself. For the next few years, Mary grew up in the awful orphanage.

Surviving through freezing winters, sweltering summers, and many infectious diseases. When she was old enough to work, Mary was placed into foster homes to work. In the end though, she was always returned back to the orphanage, the only home Mary ever knew. Finally, it came time for Mary to go get a job to earn her keep. Being sixteen and a girl, the only job she could find was working at the general store. Her boss was a cruel, heartless man who worked her to the bone, and paid her very little. Every night Mary would cry herself to sleep, dreaming of the day she could be free from all the pain. Then came Mary's eighteenth birthday, she had saved just enough money to move out on her own. Living in the run down shack was barely livable for Mary. Then another dark cloud fell over all of England, a new law to collect taxes! For Mary, that meant she would have to find another job. After searching, she finally found a job, delivering coal to the high society of England.

The work was hard, but Mary went along, still dreaming of her day of freedom. With every passing year more taxes were collected. In 1465, Mary developed an infection from inhaling all the soot. So she was forced to quit her job, which meant she had to move out of her house. Finding no where else to turn, Mary once again returned to the orphanage. She was now a slave to the owner, acting as her cook, maid, nurse, and companion. Many exhausting years drifted by for Mary. Her hope of freedom was slowly being drained from her with every passing day. One day, while delivering lunch to the owner, Mary discovered that she was dead. When the police came to take the body away, they said she had died from old age. Uncertain now of her future, Mary prayed for a miracle. Then came the reading of the owner's will, Mary was shocked to see that she was the only one there. The lawyer told her that Mrs. Keller had no one in her life, that was why she had left everything to Mary. Shocked, Mary couldn't believe it, all the money, the orphanage, and the cat was hers.

Finally something good has happened to Mary, but the joy was short lived. It seems that Mrs. Keller didn't pay her taxes, so the bank repossessed everything. Leaving Mary, once again, out on the streets without a dime. After she wandered the streets a few nights, Mary found a shelter. There she stayed for the next few years, still suffering from the infection on her lungs. While reading the paper one day, Mary came across a story that rekindled her hope. " Columbus to Sail to New World!" This was her chance, her freedom was just a ship away. All she had to do was get on that boat. The day had come, this was Mary's final chance at total freedom. The year was 1492, huge crowds of people came to see Columbus set sail to the New World. When no one was paying any attention, Mary cautiously snuck aboard one of the ships called "MAYFLOWER". From her hiding place, Mary could hear all the yelling and cheering. Then she suddenly felt a jerk, as the ship pulled out, and began its v

This site is very incredible. I like the idea that you encourage kids to enter their own work, instead of just reading others.

I still remember that day. It was one of the worst I will ever experience.  The day childhood ended. Remember when you were really little and every time you had a problem you went to your mom? Then when you got a little older you went to the person who was probably the biggest influence on your life in those precious years before you realized that one person couldn't solve every thing. The person who you stayed out late with you playing in the back yard. The single person who knew every thing about you from what your favorite gum was to what scared you after the lights went out. The person who got in and out of trouble with you? The most magnificent person in your eyes at the time, your best friend.

With most little kids when you were little your best friend was the person next door. It was no different with me and Jason. He was the only neighbor within shouting distance my age. When we were little it was us against the world, or rather the older ,bossier, neighbor children. Every mourning I would get up put on my play clothes, brush my hair, grab my doll, and went to look for Jason. As we grew older into our teen years nothing changed between us. We were still Krissy and Jason. Even though there were other girls I could have played with and other boys for Jason we were still inseparable .

Then the year I turned twelve and Jason turned thirteen we got into the first major fight of our lives. It was a silly fight over something like Jason had wanted to spend a day at a football game on the same day I was invited to a birthday party for another one of my friends. He got mad and went home angry. The next week my family left for a vacation. We were leaving for a week and I couldn't bear to leave with Jason hating me. So I went over to his house and apologized. We didn't have time to talk, but at least we were friends again. The vacation came and went as family vacations do. I only was allowed to get three souvenirs on our trip so I got a two small things for myself and something for Jason. His birthday was coming up and I got him a rock with the words Jason and Krissy friends for life engraved on it. Then the mourning when we would go home approached. That was the awful day the day childhood had ended. When I got home I couldn't contain my excitement , I had to give him the gift early.  

I rushed over to his house and right away I could tell something was wrong. There were too many cars parked in the driveway and it was really quite. I innocently walked up to the door and rang the bell. Jason's father came to the door. His eyes were red from crying. I was very confused grownups didn't usually cry something really dreadful must have happened . I remember asking for Jason and hearing whispers behind the door about me and why didn't I know yet. The whole thing had me confused and by then I remember knowing some how what had happened but not yet being able to admit it.  Jason's grandfather then walked out of the house saying that he would walk me home. Instead of going to my front door he went to the old porch swing and asked me to sit down. I sat next to him and gazed worriedly at his kind wrinkled face and saw a tear slide down his worn cheek. "Krissy, you know where that old sewer pipe is leading into the hill across the street?" He asked.

"Yes" I knew exactly where it was. I was filthy and buggy inside and Jason had always wanted to explore its depths. Of course it was strictly forbidden to kids.

"Well, Jason went to go play and didn't come back for awhile and it started to rain. Jason's parents got worried and called the police. There were big search parties and when they found him-"

"They found him! Is he in the hospital? Can I go visit?"

"Honey" Jason's grandfather continued "When it rains the sewer pipes fill up with water and Jason had been playing in there when it was raining. By the time they found him it was too late."

"You mean Jason is……"I couldn't bring myself to say the word.

"Yes, I am so sorry. But you might like to know that Jason thought the world of you. He once said that you were his best friend ever and no one could replace you in a million years"

I don't remember getting ready for the funeral. I don't remember any thing about that day except walking up to Jason's coffin and laying the rock with our names carved into next to him. So he would never forget me.

Some people lose their childhood by getting there first car. Some by getting married and having kids. While some never lose it at all. I lost it when I lost my best friend . I will never be able to replace Jason or even substitute him. I will always remember him though. On that day not only did I lose my best friend and my childhood but I always got my adulthood.

Hello My name is Jen and I wrote this story about a very close friend of mine. He died about a year ago. He was more like a brother to me then anything else. He was sweet and funny and knew exactly when I needed privacy and more importantly when I didn't. This is for you Dane.