Poems

Epitaph:

Here she lies

handfuls of dirt

and a blanket of flowers covering her while she sleeps

shielding her from the cruelty of the world

the same cruelty

that put her to sleep

 Haiku:

With money and fame

How easy it is to lose

Who you really are

Terza Rima:

They may call you names
Make fun of the things you do
Hurt you yet feel no shame

Their words can reach your insides and cut though
A sharp slice inside
Leaving you to feel defeated and blue

Somehow this makes people satisfied
Tearing others down to make selves feel better
As they lack their own confidence inside

But the next time she makes fun of your sweater
Or he pushes you down the stairs
Do not let him and her

Wear what you would like to wear
Do what makes you happy
So what if it's different, other people shouldn't care

Tone Narratives

I think it could be good. It's a new place, with lots of new people. It's much nicer than where we are now; bigger, newer. It's completely different but that could be good. I get to pick a new room color and go to a new school, I'll get to make so many more friends and build connections with other people around me. The beach will be nearby and I can wake up and hear the birds sing as the waves crash on the shore. It'll be good.

I don't know about this. There will be so many people I don't know, who don't know me. The house is so much bigger, which means more to clean, which is more that won't get cleaned, ultimately leading to Susan screaming. And really what's wrong with where we live now? I'll have to completely redo my room. It's a completely different school, much bigger and I know no one. I'll be forced to make new friends. What if I can't make new friends, or I don't fit in? I hate the beach, when the sand sticks to my feet, or when the seagulls steal your food right before you try to take a bite. I don't want to move, I don't want to go.