Young Writers Society

Torrents

outside, lightning strikes with wild abandon,
failing to scare me from my path.
thunder rumbles in desperation,
scolding me for my defiance.
torrential rain pounds on my window,
begging me to stop.
it mirrors the torrent of data
I shouldn’t have.
the storm cannot stop my download.

Burnout

today in science class i learned why
those old incandescent lightbulbs
burn out.
the little filaments
cling to life, resolute
even as a million electrons rush through.

but one day,
their bright glow
flickers out with a quiet pop.
you didn’t know it was struggling.
you didn’t even notice the light it gave
until it was gone.

i wonder how long i will take
to burn out.

A Break

the hammock sways back and forth
rocked gently by a foot
dangling over the edge
and the occasional lazy spring breeze.

the sun tans my winter-white skin,
its heat a long-lost friend’s embrace,
as I slowly turn the pages of a well-loved novel
and savor every word.

Monday will come,
but it is only Friday evening.

10 Shades of Black and White

10 shades of black and white
pour onto the paper,
sketched hastily by a mechanical pencil.
the gray lead tempers them
from concept to physical form.

10 shades of black and white
create patterns and data in everything,
endlessly complicated but still clean-cut.
black and white,
and dry.

10 shades of black and white
define our world
but to be honest,
I’ve always prefered seeing in color.

Rain Falls from a Clear Sky

the rain is clever today.
it falls in silent sheets,
droplets so tiny
they take me by surprise when they hit
with unexpected force.
they still ruin my new blouse.
(but at least rain
will make the flowers grow.
won't they?)

from the window,
a sunny day smiles back at you.
the wet pavement speaks of past trials,
but the sunlight convinces you
that they are gone,
and I am fine.
I wish you knew.

invisible rain doesn't stop water damage.

Defiance

you took a year of my life,
and i gave it freely, wrapped in stress
and tied with depression’s chains.
i was young and still thought
i could please everyone.

i’m not normal
i’ve known that all my life
but i didn’t understand how to be happy.

first i thought i needed to change
the unseeing gazes in the hallway,
my voice cracking from disuse,
were my fault, and i was just too proud
in my differences,
to ever fit in.
why should i have to change to find a friend?

i was bullied once,
but years of neglect
hurt more.

then i thought others
were simply cruel.
but i soon realized
it was unintentional.
they were too caught up in a world
of boys and music and clothes
to notice a lonely, overweight girl
reading in the corner.
pondering.

and most days it didn’t matter
but then you piled on the stress
i didn’t have anyone to turn to
and i couldn’t win without happiness as sacrifice.
what kind of victory is that?
and as i sank into depression i couldn’t care
and i learned to relax.
thanks to you i learned i don’t want
perfection,
i want peace.

i defy you.
i will not let you take my life
and spend it on trivial things.
i’m not a teacher’s pet anymore.
you pushed me past the point of caring,
and now i
am
free.

Referee

in a game of human battleship,
sheets are draped over a volleyball net,
so no one can see the other side.
most sit helpless on the gym floor,
listening for the other team’s reactions
just to know who has been hit
and who has missed.
only a few people can throw
and even those shots are blind.

I stand above it all as the referee
both sides crystal clear and
uncolored.
and I can laugh with them
and understand their moans,
somehow be on both teams at once.

but I perch on a precarious
pile of chairs just to see,
and every time I have to call a near miss
or a slender hit,
it’s difficult to keep my balance.
I have to bow to justice,
but I want both teams to win.

I am God.
it is hard.

singing in the shower

i lean back slowly
as the falling water
embraces me.
the pounding heat
strips away the stains
to expose soft skin.

the constant roar
of focused, cleansing rain,
hides my first trembling,
untuned notes,
and a fledgling confidence.

on the days when it is shattered,
and fear floods out instead,
what are a few salty drops
among the cascade?

the scalding water
melts my broken spirit,
and welds it back together.

the warm, humid clouds give
gentle air needed to breathe life
into my threadbare, patchwork body,
and face another day.

Stories

when I was young stories ran in my veins.
I drew them in
with each breath,
and every time I spoke,
they were released.

and through them,
I learned how to fall in love
and I felt a taste of grief
and laughter and fury and every emotion besides,
free to feel and experience everything
safe, sure of a happy ending.

and as I grew up I learned the names of genres
the dividing lines between stories,
though themes had always seemed
the more important category.

many dismiss fiction as fanciful facsimiles,
worth little extra thought.
but I never could,
and soon I created my own stories
to fill the gaps in my “knowledge”

I found that our facsimiles
reveal more about ourselves
than the world.
and in hindsight it seemed obvious.
why else would we tell stories?

turning

when we heard the news we didn’t know what would happen
there was still a chance to stay.
but the fear was sown
and every time i listened to Les Mis,
“Turning,” the one they sing
dancing around while changing sets,
reminded me of my own world
whirling around me,
up-ended and topsy-turvy and
wrong.

and when it we knew for sure we were leaving
i ran up to my room and cried
to think of everyone i would lose.
and after that
every time i listened to “One Day More”
it reminded me of my own
ticking clock.

and now i feel them slipping away
though i haven’t left yet.
and i wonder what kind of friends they are
to leave.
what kind of friend i am
to let them go.
but i have no idea how to bring them back
and so i listen to “On My Own,”
alone,
grateful to have a fresh start.

but then that reminds of the two friends i still have
and the mere thought of leaving is unbearable.
though they have other friends,
and they will be fine,
even if i won’t.
i listen to “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” and cry
when i realize that i will feel like this
every time i ride the bus to my new school
and look at the empty seat next to me.
i cry harder when i realize i already miss them.
though i haven’t left yet,
it has already hijacked my life.

some days I listen to the last song
the one where he dies and goes to heaven
and each person who died and ripped out my heart
is there, singing,
carefree.
even the darkest night will end
and the sun will rise!
i want to believe, but the night is still young
and starless.
maybe i’ll believe.
someday.

Raw Creation

blank paper, pencil.
infinity locked within,
awaiting release.

raw art shapes itself
from raw emotion felt deep
in a tender soul.

a genuine work
is more priceless than rubies,
and holds the same hue.

treasure them always.
they pull truth from darkest nights,
and bring it to light.

Ever Green

the evergreen trees that frame my house
never seem to change.
a constant backdrop
to the fickle deciduous.

in winter, weaker trees drop their leaves
in favor of rest and regrowth
till the soft currents of spring
bring the energy they need
to bloom.

evergreen trees never change
never rest, always firm
sentries on constant watch.
strong and stout and proud.

but today as I weeded
alongside my evergreens,
I noticed new, tender needles,
brilliant, vibrant, green.
alive,
but so hard to see
from a distance.

evergreens cycle through life’s seasons
like all the others.
they just hide it better.

Longing

I wish I could compare you
to a rose on a summer’s day,
but the roses have all wilted,
and no longer describe your silken caress.

I wish I could say I love you more than life itself,
but that’s only true
when life has no silver lining,
and your embrace is the only escape.

I wish I could say it was love at first sight,
but in truth, I never wanted you.
You were a waste of time,
at least until I grew up a little.

I wish I knew why when I need you most,
I can never get enough of you,
but when we have the chance to cuddle,
you’re nowhere to be found.

I wish I could find the time
to sink into your arms,
and let you whisper sweet dreams in my ears
as long as we wish.

Oh blessed sleep, have mercy,
and give me true rest.
Little else is kind these days,
and I need strength.

Fixing

I work in an unfinished basement,
where bits of insulator peek over the shiny cover
with wires and pipes and beams exposed,
guts open for all to see.

and it’s nice to never have to
remember the last time I cleaned it.
the mess of wires abolishes
all hope of being presentable.

it’s so much easier
to fix an outage
when the wires are in plain view.
I wish everyone could carry
their veins wrapped around them
and their hearts on their sleeves.
it would be a lot easier to fix them
and me.

Running

I ran two miles in gym today
alone
because my only friend was sick.
and of course by run I mean
walk, sometimes sprint.
and when I say two miles
I really mean one and three-quarters
since I didn’t even start the final lap,
out of time and exhausted.

and those who say running helps you think
have never run in blinding sun before,
a forced trek,
alone and more exhausted
by the minute.

the sun’s glare beat my thoughts into submission
and I didn’t have the strength to set them free
so I walked
and ran, mindless
step
by
endless
step
round and round forever.