Category: 07th

Do you ever look at someone, wondering what they are thinking about?
Well, here is what I’m thinking
People wont ever care about me
No one would notice me hurting
but here I am..in pain
If only people cared
I know many people go through these thoughts
everyday or even more thoughts
what we all want is for the pain to go away
but it just gets stronger
as the stress builds up
the pain gets worse
bigger kids pick on smaller ones saying
“Go die loser!” “hahha Nerd!” “Eww”
or more harmful things to make us feel pain
but I believe those who hurt others have more pain
and they just need someone to love them
I want to be that person
I want to put aside their pain
to break down their walls
to put down their armor
Yes, everyone goes through pain
but some go through it every
and I want that to stop
No one should feel pain everyday…
Pain…is what makes people weak
and people who suffer day weaker
than most and i want to help
them be stronger..
Always remember….Someone out there loves you
You don’t have to be in pain everyday.

---

Chisholm Trail Middle School

7

Deep in the pearly moon,
Is a vast, endless place
Where heaven is entangled with earth.
And where love is born,
Where time is limitless.
And when I gaze into the moon,
It unleashes a swarm of butterflies from the depths of my heart.
Deep in the pearly moon,
Is a range of celestial mountains.
A range of mountains that would leave even the gods speechless,
And she lulls my heart with her hyms,
Pulling me closer and closer
Her song mixing with my dreams
Pulling me closer and closer.
We both lay on the grass looking up
With smores in our hands,
And wish this moment could last forever.

---

Pearson Ranch Middle School

7

They think they know me
They don´t
They try to see me
They can’t
I feel alone, and invisible

I will see people around me,
See them smiling,
Enjoying, laughing,
Something I can’t seem to do anymore.

No one knows,
No one sees,
No one truly can.
I feel blank and invisible.

I pretend,
I act,
I try not to show,
Who is hidden,
In me.

No one tries,
No one’s eyes,
Are showing
Secrets,
And nothingness,
Like mine.

They think they know me,
They don´t,
They try to see me,
They can’t
I feel nothing.
I’m invisible.

---

Pearson Ranch Middle School

7

She felt like a wildfire that had never been burned, she was spreading bigger and bigger hurting everyone everywhere. She felt like she destroyed everything in sight meandering throughout the world. She wanted to put her own flame out, but she was powerless, instead, she became her own worst enemy.

---

Pearson Ranch Middle School

7

As the words left his mouth he shudders at the sound of them clinging to the air like fog.
More words tripping and tumbling like rocks out of this mouth.
His legs shaking and sweat dripping, falling like rain on the tile floor.
His first poem was a failure.
So he tries again and again ’till his mind is sore of thoughts but his piece is finished.
There is only so much left to give his mouth to say.

---

O Henry Middle School

7

Wind tends to rustle and tussle tin cans across the swarming streets of New York. The cans are kicked, picked and tricked towards the trash.
A gust dusts the rust off the busts in the cans.
Finally the rush of the feet in the street eat at them until they are no more.

---

O Henry Middle School

7

Trapped

The darkness around me fills my senses
With thoughts of freedom hope and ambition
My cold hand quickly turns pale and tenses
I still do know that this is my mission

My long slender limbs, I know will not last
Every second feels like decades pass by
Drops of energy evaporate fast
Standing by myself on the other side

My friends look at me with disappointment
Their judging expression burns up my heart
Forced as an introvert with no ointment
wistfully nothing will tear us apart

Trapped as a reflection in your mirror
I am at no time present in your heart

---

Paragon Prep School

7

I see the rain so innocent yet dangerous fall to the ground covering it in puddles soon to cover highways. Translucent and fragile. Lighting shooting across the sky lighting it up for a split second. The clouds gray and gloomy pouring rain like a girl with a broken heart. The lights flashing on and off until they finally give out and leave its host in the dark. The sound thumping windows crashing to the ground so small but so many. Like a raging war of tiny pixies. The sound of thunder makes the ground shake and the rain roar. The sound of windshield wipers sliding across the windshield and cars racing through the water making splashes as they go. A child’s cry when the thunder strike. For the fear in their hearts makes the child shed tears.
The lukewarm drops fall onto my skin somehow it is light as a feather but when the thunder roars the rain stings like the feeling of a small electrical shock. The feeling of hope and fear. Fear that the rain could never stop that eventually we will go back to the beginning…only water. Yet hope that plants will flourish and animals will no longer die of thirst. The fear that maybe this is mother nature’s punishment for us. The bitter salty taste of the rain like tears. The smell of wet grass and nature making me fall deep into the thought of my childhood. So dangerous yet so beautiful.

---

Ridgeview Middle School/ Round Rock Opportunity Center.

7

Life goals is like climbing a mountain you will face obstacles
The mountain will be rough and jagged and you might
Cut your hand
Along the way but keep going keep trying to climb
That mountain

along the way you might have to face
A mountain lion
But don’t be frightened or discouraged

Because when you get to the top
Of the mountain boy is it
beautiful

---

Gorzycki

7

The butterflies couldn’t seem to go away,
anytime during the day.

As I’m lying awake so many nights,
trying to recognize the passion,
my wishes hide in my open mind.

Their gentle wings keep them afloat
in my constant overflowing emotions;
washing my worries away in a sea of aspiration.

The painful sting of waiting.
The irresistible burn of wanting something you have,
that some how still seems out of
reach.
And the uncomfortable ache of my
vulnerable heart
let loose to a firing range.

But the overwhelming reminder from my butterflies;
they always seem to be a good sign.

Their wings push and pull on my breath
until it feels as if I can’t
breathe at all.

The air seemingly stomped from my chest
like the match,
thought to have been smothered from existence,
but not before its spark
lit ablaze in the depths of my
heart.

My some how effortless desire,
playing me like a fiddle,
and the endless sight of complication;
forming countless paths in
our maze.

Their natural beauty beyond belief.
Their pure, innocent, representation of
the most longed for, feared emotion, sometimes known as
love.

The fire.
The flame.
It is all the same.
My prayer for a simple attraction.

So listen to the cry of my butterflies;
the lullaby rocking me to sleep at night.
The quiet but fierce whisper from my butterflies
reminding you they’re still
here.

---

The Ann Richards School for Young Women Leaders

7