It can’t rain all the time
But the colors in the air are all divine
Picturing a world that holds the line
Leads the blind
Mutilates their shine
Sharing the lead
That we’ll generously blend
Until red tears drip
Further than our grave
by Anonymous 1
Where’s the recipe for consistency
I’d craft a beautiful intimacy
Though the crave and persistency
Often beckons a travesty
by Anonymous 1
but did we really survive if the trauma still follows us like a shadow in a forest. like it’s footprints are left in our bed sheets. like our memories turned into nightmares that we can no longer run away from. but after all, we are survivors right? it’s like all my memories turned into photo graphics and all i could remember are the visual representations of when my life fell apart. they call us survivors because we find comfort in the pain. this pain helps us believe we were worth something. it showed us that we were wanted even if it was for a little time. but did we really survive, if our survival speech isn’t told as a success story, instead it is told as an apology to those who hurt us, even tho we weren’t the ones who should be saying sorry. so are we even survivors- If we are still suffocating in the fire even after it’s been put out.
by Lily Nunez
When I read certain books, I fear that instead of reading someone else’s story, I’ll end up reading mine.
The type of story that keeps me up at night.
The crawling down my spine feeling.
I’m afraid that other people will see me for what I went through and not for who I am.
by Lily Nunez
Sometimes I wear a mask, not one that’s labeled as penny wise or Michael Myers, but one that hides my true self.
It’s the costume that I feel most comfortable in.
The outfit that I put on every morning without a second thought.
It’s such a good costume, people think it’s my everyday outfit.
So on Halloween, they ask why I hadn’t dressed up.
I reply, “I’m always faking who I am, why should it be different on a day like this?”
by Lily Nunez
The skeleton of a tree
music notes fall to the ground
and produce a sound imperceptible but heard.
Its silent mass whispered to my psyche,
paralyzing my legs to stop and admire
It's lessons of fragility.
by Sanaeé
You kissed me, and my heart became a circus, unable to be tamed because your touch leaves me feeling spellbound. Tasting your lips was like morning coffee. Your hand entangled with mine, heart pounding every time you say my name, souls connected.
I loved every second of it. But when I opened my eyes, you were gone. The feeling of you stayed, but your presence was nowhere to be found.
by Lily Nunez
There has to be a balance that one can love you but not have to carry you, bc in any relationship, one gets tired of being the Sherpa
by I.S.
There's no such thing as talking,
At least when I'm talking to you.
Were your parents annoying?
'Cause I'm building a fixed mind too.
There's no such thing as list'ning,
I'm losing my ears just like you.
Ear wax made out of concrete,
Forms when you force me all your food.
Being stressed, tightened, and locked,
In a corner of self-breaking wrought.
The mind, slowly decomposing,
self-exposing it's inner Thoughts.
Relying on drips on drops
To keep going,
Relying on tears and hugs
To keep from exploding.
So much love, wanting the feeling of,
Being free of me, and being enough.
Power over adversity
Strength to ask: could it be?
They said I couldn’t, I said I couldn’t
I said I can, so I ran
Ran as far as my heart would take me
And in the end, if it was all for naught, then at least I’d be true to untangle the knot
It was the unexcelled victory in battle, the unexcelled freedom from bondage
Courage to make the hard choice, courage to speak the brave voice
Heart like a burning star
Relentless, I fight no holds barred
by Alex Zeisse
Happiness is only real when shared
Trading outer wealth for inner wealth, candy for gold
It's the happiness that doesn't leave you when all else grows old
Wherever you go, you'll go together
It’s the queen of the arts
Generosity: a perfection of character
by Alex Zeisse
My grandmother died last spring
She was scared and confused
Wherever she may be
If the merit of my generosity can be known, let it be known
If it can be heard, let it be heard
If it can be used, let it be used
Used to find a happiness that’s true and free
by Alex Zeisse
We were like two suns who like Icarus got too close to one another,
But at least I rely on moonlight to survive and bloom as a flower at midnight.
Opposites normally attract but together we simply negatively react.
What touch was once inviting has turned to poison ivy,
And now I’m more scared than I have ever been in my life.
Not to fail, no,
But to succeed and move on so grand,
That I can finally get the happiness everyone says I deserve.
After all, should I be rewarded with joy when an artists’ job is to be tragic?
by Anisa Prom
Echoing.
You words reverberate through my head, pounding and repeating, as if you’re a broken record.
Invisible.
You don’t look at me, like I’m a ghost that’s destined to hide in the shadows.
Breaking.
It’s always everyone else and not me. Always the prettier, always the funnier, always the better.
Losing.
That’s me. I know you see her and not this composed and masked face. It’s like comparing a doll to the living, and I’m only a toy.
Invisible.
Me.
by Anisa Prom