Best 7Th Grade Poems | Poetry

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7th Grade Memories by Robinson, Arianna
7th grade by Zhang, Ting
Alone in my Pain by Anthony Figueroa 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Intoxication by Celine Figueroa 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Seeking Hope by Alexandros Carellas 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Reprehensible by Garrett Murtagh 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
My Best by Juan Torres 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Influence by Christian Cepeda 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Fear of the Unknown by Johanny Espinal 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Hope by Allen Argueta 7th grade by Munich, Lynette

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The Best 7Th Grade Poems

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My Girl

Secretly, I watch the neighbors, 
From my well-advantaged location.
Mrs. G. is complaining about her husband to Mrs. S.
No one's drama is ever as vivid as Mrs. G's.
They full-body laugh, tongues out.
Mr. P. is going to be late for supper again; 
I can hear Mrs. P. cussing.
At 4:15 I hear the all-day waited slam of a backdoor.
My girl is running toward me, flat out.
She is carrying a white pillow and gray blanket.
There's a plastic bag swinging from her arm as she climbs.
Prior experience tells me the sack holds a book, a drink
and her favorite sandwich - mayonnaise, peanut butter and lettuce.
After smashing a few ants on my floor, the girl flops down, 
and begins to read.
I smile as she devours the sandwich like a young starving wolf.
She's ten, the perfect age to devour.
Every day is the same except Saturday.
On Saturday my girl spends the whole day inside me,
reading two to three books at a time.
It is our favorite day.
Her sister runs out sometimes and begs the girl to play,
but we are fighting pirates, conquering Asia, taming macaws.
We are so in tune, she and I.
I know my girl has to climb down and run for the house, 
leaving me alone, 
to spy on the neighbors.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Birds eye self surveillance

Theres a man in the sky, can you see him hiding, crouching behind the grey mist rising. 
Thunder and lightning seems to guide him to reach that height when he needs some time in the skies to hide him from deeply diving down in abyss with the criminal minded, 
Around town thinking his fates decided, 
One time to try and escape is worth trying. 
Break these chains that he's been confined in.
Deep blue sirens penetrating silence. 
Skies are private and safe to lye in, the place between land and space divided.
Like sea side beaches thats seemed inviting then beached and breach by fleets of Vikings. 
I need some time away from these pirates. 
Pilot my own plane off of this island. 

The man in the sky where the sun is shining. 
Every cloud has a silver lining 
Looks down to earth where the buildings blind him. 
He closes his eyes and hopes for sight again. 
Then a bright light flash dilates his irises. 
Opens his mind his ideas ignited with fuel for the fires of the world's environment. 
He looks for the best in people entirely and feels stomach acid burning deep inside his ribs. 
Hybrids living off the cheaper cider with red dots for a sniper shot. 
Rifling through timeless lots, got police men tying these wired knots tighter. 
The cirlces tightening, ducking and diving, that life was tiring. 
The ground force fighting, cross firing. 
Suicidal minds and types who keep trying. 
Friends keep dying and fools keep lying, lining their pockets with tools and your diamonds. 
Thats why I left that life behind climbing the steps and headed for the skies for some quiet time. 
Titan the Pisces I'm buying time for this man in the sky, three flats high. 
He left his life behind but didn't die. 
Just moved on finally finding his feet now his appetites ideally gaining weight from more to eat. 
Bored of walking the streets so he's flying the sky line striking like lightening bolts on dark nights. 
Past paying for his crimes from a past life. 
Its a hard knock life we all cry. 
We all pay a price but we gotta survive. 
Lets high five. 
Listen and follow good advice.  
Its wise. 
Its all life.
Swallow pieces of pie, fly and get by, flee or fight,  look to the sky and take flight for a birds eyes surveillance. 
It's all solar from the lows to the highs. 
Strong minded. 
One time confined in sun shine to unwind. 
Thug life sometimes just right and stuck like bee honey. 
And life's as funny as Nick Trims old skool vs mumble rap like P Money. 

Copyright © Sam Perkins | Year Posted 2018

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Gathering Dust

It happened in a moment, during my 7th grade English class   *
As we studied classic literature; “Evangeline”,  the poem
A substitute teacher, wearing shoes of polished coal             *
His soft style, hair neatly combed, engrossed in reading poetry…
Pubescence slumped around me, nodding off, slowly being lulled...
Young minds. filled with clutter, gathering dust, from ancient stories

With glittering eyes, he read each verse                 *    *
The soft, eager voice, that stroked each word…
He would wait, on occasion, to look around the room  *
With wistful hope, I would suppose, to reach one heart, one soul

At the start of the class, I had been watching the clock
But, as I sat more enraptured, time just seemed to stop…
I turned the pages, one by one …and slowly fell in love

The beauty of old words, drifted through the stuffy air
Like the gathering of dust motes, glittered, hanging in suspension
Filtered in the angled light, of the afternoon’s warm detention
Sun filtered through window glass,…while voice of bliss droned on…. 

My heartbeat sped, with growing passion
I restrained my hands from reaching,… grabbing                 *
To catch each word, and keep them captive…
Dust motes, and words, were spinning around                             *
I was head over heels…for my substitute teacher…
I was head over heels for an old man named Longfellow….
Thirteen years old, I loved two older men….

Fell in love with the classics,....on a mid-day afternoon
                  While gathering dust, and the magic of words

For the Contest: "Gathering Dust"
Sponsored by John Lawless

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

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A letter

I wrote you a letter, 
and then another letter,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a word. 

So I wrote you a word,
and then another word, 
and another, and another, 
until I wrote you a sentence. 

So I wrote you a sentence, 
and then another sentence, 
and another, and another, 
until I wrote you a letter. 

I hope it finds you as I found you. 

Yours truly, 
Yours, truly.

Copyright © Sophie Wilson | Year Posted 2018

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At 13 Only Feeling Shame

At 13 Only Feeling Shame

At 13 a child,her innocence by two taken
Teenage years should,have had  been fun
Instead, begining to the end , life forsaken
And her first year,away she tried to run

At 13,as an adult she was forced to become
When she first learned,to how hide her shame
While away from herself, she wanted to run
Away from sorrow,away from the blame

At 13,was an important lifetime  milestone
A year as a teen, memories were to be pure
Other's faults, she would claimed as her own
Missing her youth, she could never recapture

At 13 feelings felt, no one ever  should
Told she was the devils daughter, no good
To mold a young mind,it became her belief

Man's pleasure her reasoning, to be on earth
So many secrets, all she forever had to keep
One more thing, to tally up as her true worth
Never once to speak on it ,not one peep

Internalizing it all, keeping all to herself
Innocent child,backed up against a wall
Fear,unloved,loathing added to feelings wealth
Trusting none,just wanting to end it all

One year at 13, longest in life to ever live
A day felt a week,a week a month ,a minute an hour
A year felt like, her life she would  give
Yet at 13, she learned survival was her power

All of this in just one year!
At 13 her first teenage year!

Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2018

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The empty words

 Desperate.. how can you be with someone and not love them. Desperate.. your heart is empty. Are you lonely? Desperate.. is it true? A shallow word? An empty meaning? Desperate..Desperate..Desperate, is it a rumor, the spread of words that ruin lifes. Am i invisable? I'm here. Standing in front of you. Maybe my glasses are blocking your view. I can change.. I'm not desperate. I'm in love, but then again what is love? An empty word. An empty meaning.. A rumor? 

a poem by LeannW.Brown 

Copyright © Stephanie Ward | Year Posted 2018

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What am I

No one has seen me,
They have looked. 
So long I've waited,
So long I've hooked,
A piece of my soul,
To drops of loneliness;
A piece of my soul,
To lines of deadlines.

The rain is falling,
Water drowns the room.
The sky has waited,
For our certain doom.
To bring us down,
And clean the world,
Of those who were worth this,
And those who weren't.

I am stuck inside my mind,
No one around, I'm left behind.
Left in the dark, being consumed,
Of what is gone, of what is blue.

No one has seen me,
They have looked,
So long I've held on,
So long I've hooked,
A piece of me,
For what I atone,
So what I really am,
Is I'm alone.

Copyright © Amily Watson | Year Posted 2018

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And You, Suicide
I cry
I don’t cry an ocean
I cry
But I don’t cry a river
I cry
But you can’t see my tears
You don’t know that I cry
One tear
My mom’s dead body
One tear
My brother’s blood
One tear
My dad’s knife
And one tear
I yearn to reach
The tips of your hair
Just out of my reach
I hate you
You only love those who
Bleed and cry
Bleed and cry
Bleed and cry
One tear 
My mom’s dead body
One tear
My brother’s blood
One tear
My dad’s knife
And one tear
How I wish I could hug
In your cold embrace
I hate you
You only take those who
Grieve and sigh
Grieve and sigh
Grieve and sigh
One life
My mom’s dead body
One life
For my brother’s blood
One life 
My dad’s knife
Millions of lives
You don’t realize the people you’ve
In your rigid, soft fingers
I hate you
You only want those who
Grin and lie
Grin and lie
Grin and lie
But I’m done
And I won’t smile
I won’t hide your attempts
Of stealing my life
You’re in my
And you need to
Take your weapons and 
Your pills
Your blades
Your guns
Your ropes
I want to leave
But your pain is my addiction
And I can’t
I want to see you
I want to see you
But sometimes
I want to see you
Like the lives
You took 
When you lured them
Your arms
I want to stop this suffering
But we love you

Copyright © Sil Ng | Year Posted 2018

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The Last Show

The stage was so spectacular I had to wear my glasses.
They only let a handful in with extraordinary passes;
written in a scripted font and lined with foiled gold,
for those of us who had one, they were something to behold.

The gullible sat waiting for the buffoonery to start;
the ratings in the papers were completely off the chart.
Some had heard of wonder, that it cured them of depression;
many left in disbelief; it made quite an impression.

The crowd began to stir with a ubiquitous roar of chatter,
every person in the house was pondering the matter,
when suddenly the room went dark and everyone was still.
With widened eyes and racing heart, I hoped it'd fit the bill.

A man appeared larger than life amid a frightening scene,
his head was framed in rising flames that billowed smokey green.
He shouted at the crowd and we all shuddered as he glared,
he asked a volunteer to approach if any of us dared.

A dreadful fright took hold of us as we all sat there in fear,
my spine seemed to be paralyzed while others shed a tear.
The air became uncomfortable as the man began to rage,
and that is when a young girl stood and walked toward the stage.

The crowd let out a gasp as she climbed the center stairs.
We hoped that she would stop as we stayed glued to our chairs.
She stood before the giant man who said with a deep voice:
"Who sent you to me?" and she replied, "I come to you by choice."

While several of us fainted, the man became perplexed.
He seemed to lose control and suddenly was vexed.
This wasn't what he planned and the show was off the script,
he stuttered and he stammered as the situation flipped.

"How dare you show me disrespect!" he said through smokey haze,
but the young girl stood in bold defiance of his fiery blaze.
She spoke to him with empathy and stared with caring eyes,
"I think this front you've shown to us is nothing more than lies."

He couldn't think of what to say, she'd called him on his bluff,
the tension cracking through the room was now more than enough;
the man let out a tired gasp as the smoke and flame went out,
he softened up his voice with no more reason left to shout.

"You're right," he said in solemn tones,"You've seen through my disguise,
I've never had this happen though I've had so many tries."
He turned to the astounded crowd and said "I'm from Topeka"
and ended the last show he did by shouting out "Eureka!"

Written: 05.17.18
Joined: 05.17.18
The first poem submitted: This one - The Last Show

Copyright © Cary Snowden | Year Posted 2018

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My Bio Poem from Caren

Creative, Empathetic, Respectful, Helpful
Wife of Joe, mother of Angela, Tracy, and Susie, 
Mother-in-law of Josh and Andy,
Grandma of Emily, Cali, Molly, Tony, Jack, Josie, Lucy, Daisy, Max and Johnny.
Lover of children, dogs, and family.
Who feels joy, excitement, and amused.
Who needs people, work, and love.
Who gives happiness, soft words, and tender touches.
Who fears violence, anger, and rage.
Who would like to see the world assimilate as one.
Resident of Kansas

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Say it

You knew
He liked you,
He expressed
But never said.

On social media
He followed,
Every picture was saved
that you upload.

He practiced a lot
for final meet,
So, that he could make you listen
his heart beat.

He trapped by his own
stupid dual thoughts,
Risk of loosing you as a friend
motivated him, not to propose.

Unspoken words,
would be better to say,
Otherwise, it will be,
too late........

Copyright © Trittya Yelane | Year Posted 2018

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Here in the Night

Here in the Night the animals are running.
The wind is howling at the moon, urging theses creatures on.
They’ve been running for hours they don’t have a sense of it. 
Cause what they’ve been through has stripped them from their feeling of identity. 
Running as one. Dying as one. 
The snow beneath their feet mocking them with it’s stillness. 
Here in the night they are trampling each other.
If one cannot keep up they die. Simple. 
Whether they are shot or trampled.  
Trying not to think, just running for freedom. 
Easier said than done. 
These “filthy dogs” are dropping like flies. 
Thinking of all they have endured made them to go on.
Being controlled by a bell.
Being beaten to death.
Seeing loved one’s beaten to death. 
Being given rations of food, barely enough to survive.  
All give them the strength to persist. 
Here in the night these bodies are lying in snow not even caring.
Demoralized, weak, and contemplating whether or not to die.
Here in the darkness of night it is now April 11th. 
They realized that they are to be saved. 
They cared not of family or revenge.
Their only care was to rid themselves of this form they had taken and to gain strength with a piece of bread. 
The night has changed these specimens. 
The night has changed others. 
The night has changed me. 
The denouement of there journey was that a miracle had allowed them to survive.
These animals.
These “filthy dogs”
These specimens. 
These humans.

Copyright © Daphne Edwards | Year Posted 2018

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The F Poem


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Relatives Re-inact A Romantic Reconciliation

Oh, yes, Darling! Please meet me up the street, in fifteen minutes, right past the old tan house with that porch, bamboo.
We need to talk about things, you and me, without your mean relatives, and that includes your cousin Ted Stew.
I’d gladly trade this car for a completely untarnished marriage certificate, cleaned out of the day-old flu.
But, fiance’, dearest, you have yet to show me your love nest, your side honey, or your super-secret tattoo,
So now that you realize I might cost you money, you love me forever, and think you can let go and forget the Queen of Vooody-Voo- Doo?
Sure, Sweet Darling. Being pre reasonable, I would certainly like to review our marriageable status, and begin trusting you anew.
Of course, we had better hurry, so we get this trust thing sorted, and my family decides to re-include you,
I do not think any love-you-forever ceremony, fancy hall, or wedding vows I will seriously pursue.
If you decide to take the challenge, there on the steps wearing their juiciest smiles, are my mother, Grandma Kell and cousin Lou.
Sure, they do all have guns, permits, frying pans, and razors. Confidentially, they’re in a hum dinger of a stew about you too.
What more can I do, Sugar Bear?  I’ve led you right to them, right up these pretty blue and white steps, and frankly, honey, it’s the best thing I could ever do.
So saying, I guess all my relatives are ready to talk and slap and pinch and punch, and fight and scrap, and kick, because they’re sort of mad you made me so blue.
Bye, Sweetie. I’m off for the weekend with my new honey, Rick, a gentle, kind, God-fearing man, who doesn’t want to stick around to see what they’re going to do.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Land of Dreams

Land of Dreams 
Candy-colored beams 
Tree streams of Yellow Lemon Dew Drops

Red, Green and Blue Gumballs Cars

The path to Rainbow City covered with Peppermint Boat Docks

Sugar Cane Boats floating thru a Chocolate covered River

All sorts of Colored Coded Candy, that is sure to please

A little boy and little girls wish would sure to have a Candy Land Adventure in the 
Land of Dreams

Copyright © Migdalia Torres | Year Posted 2018

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A Simple Hamburger If You Please

Horseradish too.

That’s up to you.

Are your patties thin or thick?
Can I gobble one down right quick?

A touch of butter
A slab of bacon.

Please put them on 
If mine you’re making.

Are your patties thin or thick?
Can I gobble one down right quick?

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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A Young Bully Named

There once was a bully named Jim.
He made people cry on a whim.
He was big, bad and mean
And had a name-calling machine,
because he was not very smart, this man, Jim.

There once was a bully named Thad.
He called names and pulled hair, when mad.
We made him our pal,
And he said, "you guys are a wow!"
And he changed his whole attitude and was glad.

There once was a bully named Day.
He did everything to keep people away.
We ignored his bad side,
which he soon learned to hide.
Our new friend, who now liked to play.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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When no one else was there to save me,
it was.
It always wraps me in its warmth,
Listens to my every sob,
Pats me in sympathy and comfort.
It's been my lifelong friend.

Most kids are afraid of the dark,
But really there's no need.
Darkness has always been my friend

Copyright © Amelia Josephie | Year Posted 2018

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Thwarting the Bullies

Shelly said that Darlene said that
Tina said that you are an ignorant fool.
Jinny said that Zinna was rolling her eyes at you.
Farina said you have cooties.
Do you want to hear what Allie said about you?
No, thanks.
Minnie said….
“I don’t want to hear it,” I tell her, skipping away.
“You are a poppie butt!” she yells after me.
Thank you, I yell back.
“You are CRAZY!” she hollers, angry now.
“THANK YOU!” I yell louder.
“They were talking trash about you,” my friend tells me.
Wait a second. This is my friend?
“Are you going to talk to them about it?”
Are you going to fight them?
I throw back my head and laugh.
Once I mastered the skip away, the stay away and the thank you
Bullies had no power over me.
They started bothering others.
I try to teach my friends
Bullies will leave you alone
If they don’t think you are getting mad or sad.
Being so danged light skinned .
I had a terrible time mastering
Those telling pink cheeks.
I had to practice with
Trusted friends,
By letting them calling
Me names and practicing
My strategies.
The Keep Away.
The Skip Away.
The Thank You.
Believe me,
I now have it right.
No one bothers
Me now.
It’s simply

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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13 And Confident

She is assertive.
When she does not want to do 
something, she lets you know.

She honors herself.
Her heart shows her the way.
She listens to her inner voice.
She is 13, and confident.

She cannot be cajoled, swayed, or lured.
She is her own person, following her path.
Making choices that delight herself, and no one but.

She is a dynamo.
On a clear course.
She has met no one who can fool her.
I pray she never does.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Ode To My Rescue Dog

Found alone and scared on the streets of LA
A kill shelter is where she would stay

Sitting alone and cold in the dark
Nobody around to hear her bark

Until Jolene came to save the day
A nice rescue is where she would now stay

Villalobos Rescue put her on TV
Two years later, Louise brought her to me

Syndee Lou now sleeps in a warm cozy bed
All the bad memories are now gone from her head

I love her because she is cute, smart and funny
She likes to play ball with my other dog Gunny

Pit bulls have gotten such bad raps
All my dogs do is lick and take naps

Puppies are cute, but training's not fun
Getting a rescue dog is the best thing I've done

By: Josh Albertson
7th grade
Mrs McMurry

Copyright © Josh Albertson | Year Posted 2014

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Women In My Circle

I received this in my email this morning, and wanted to share it with everyone:

Girls in my Circles

When I was little,
I used to believe in the concept of one best friend,
And then I started to become a woman.
And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up,
God would show you the best in many friends.
One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man.
Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your mom.

Another will sit beside you in the bleachers as you delight in your
children and their activities.
Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be.
One friend will say, 'Let's cry together,'
Another , 'Let's fight together,'
Another , 'Let's walk away together.'
One friend will meet your spiritual need,
Another your shoe fetish,
Another your love for movies,
Another will be with you in your season of confusion,
Another will be your clarifier,
Another the wind beneath your wings.

But whatever their assignment in your life,
On whatever the occasion,
On whatever the day,
Or wherever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair
pulled back,
Or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself .
Those are your best friends.
It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many, it's wrapped up in
One from 7th grade,
One from high school,
Several from the college years,
A couple from old jobs,
On some days your mother,
On some days your neighbor,
On others, your sisters, some days your sister-in -law,
And on some days, your daughters.

Copyright © Veronica Joseph | Year Posted 2009

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Nameless Lad

He last had a pal in the 7th grade,
 They shared a class from the 1st grade.
 And together, for Home Economics,
 they were always late.
 But the seventh grade showed up, in its
 claws it held their un-anticipated fate.

 For death's heartless might had
 snatched away the pal's dear moter,
 The lad watched as he packed the
 boots that both their feet knew.
 Off he went to unknown horizons.
 "I will write", is all he said.
 And so, at the post office,
 the lad became a familiar face.
 "He never forgot me", he convinces
 his lonely self everyday.

 The 12th grade is his current stop.
 He recently acquired a harmless infection-hope.
 So, while he dejectedly kicks innocent pebbles
 in the streets he's quite hopeful that the other lad, his pal,
 will write..........or maybe tweet.

 Word has it, though, that the pal was
 seen somewhere.
 He was wearing a black suit...
 Word has it also that he couldn't make a conversation.
 Instead of his trademark smile,
 solemnity had found a home in his face.
 There he was, stone dead.

 "Maybe, just maybe, he will write",
 thinks the nameless lad as he kicks a
 couple of innocent pebbles while he threads
 on one rugged path towards home.

 And tomorrow he's going to the post office.

Copyright © Cebelihle Mbuyisa | Year Posted 2013

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A Dog's Life


Lovable, Friendly

Frolicking. Jumping. Chewing.

Ball. Cat!  Bed. Window.

Sleeping, Pattering, Growling

Loyal, Loving


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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7th Grade Memories

Wandering aimlessly throughout dim halls
As babble spills from around the corner.
Then there’s the knife in the drawer, it calls
For a slit of my throat with no torture. 

Eating lacks its former comfort and joy
When salty tears roll down onto your plate
Due to the disdain they’ll always employ
It crushes the chest like a giant weight 

Struggling to bear my life’s burden alone 
While grief breaks what’s left of my withered soul.
Until a blissful day written in stone
Shows me as a diamond pressed from hard coal 

Perhaps that moment will sooth my distress 
I’ll return to my departed finesse 

Copyright © Arianna Robinson | Year Posted 2015