Published on  
December 8, 2021

Kill the music

By Faith Collins


By Sophie Howard

You tell me a secret 

You say I can never repeat.

But what if this secret leaves scars,

What if it bleeds,

In my heart?

What if it burns,

In my mind,

What if I have to tell someone in order for it to die?

Because I want this secret to die.

I want it gone and I wish I never heard it.

I don’t want to be a part of it.

Burning in my head, bleeding in my heart, scarring on my arm - I can’t take it anymore.

I tell.

I told the secret you told me to keep, I feel better, and now I can sleep.

Sure I was an adult but you always made me feel like I was 15.

Lesser than you and lesser than everyone.

Why did you have to tell me? 

Was it burning you too?

Was your heart bleeding too?

Did it scar you too?

Did I scar, did I burn, did I help bleed someone else now? 

Maybe I should have left it be so no more people would have to bleed,

Would have to burn,

Would have to scar,

The way we did. 

Never tell me a secret

That I cannot keep.

Exploring the Mind by Thomas Alexander


By Logan Roy

Ah, yes,

A deep breath,


And then out.

The warmth of sunbeams

Piercing the chill of a worried heart.

The passionate kiss of the extravagant sunrise

Painting the horizon.

The sweet brush of a warm breeze

Across an anxious face.

The sweet aroma of loved ones

Maybe far away, but always near.

The lovely touch of one special person,

Sending giddy electricity into the soul.

The ever so gentle aura of peace,

The calm after a fierce gale,

The serenity of a quiet lake,

The bristling of autumn leaves.

Oh how my restless spirit years for three!

Your World - Clara Monahan

Mellow wavy hair

Trickling down your spine

Messy coated desk

Of papers filled with lines

You flicker upon new tabs

Catering to your desire

Turn your head and think

Of all thou do admire

Your river eyes ever wander

Like a flowing soft stream

To universes strange

Only found in a dream

Though I cannot see 

Your vision through your gaze

Your face twisted still

Says plenty to amaze

So I wonder steadily from afar

To see your mind contemplate

Something other than this essay

This world that you create

The Session

By Darby Hood

A scarred plane stretches before me,
Pale and sore,
Groaning under the burden of my gaze.

I make a bid to keep control of it,
To steer the suffering,
But the more I dig my fingers in,
The more it slips away.

And this strange landscape changes in front of me,
Aging beyond its years,
Suffering further under my sorry grasp.

My reach for a grip is fruitless,
And my hold slipping,
The furrows made by my flailing hands grow deeper.

I snap back, move away from the mirror,
And I cringe.


By Ella Goodyear

his voice is a burning fire 

bright enough to blind you from the grass beneath your feet

fragile blades breaking beneath your leaps

they are the very strings that weave my soul

the child’s blanket at your feet

laying unraveled before you

but the glare is fierce so you don’t see the difference

when you reach for it it still touches you the same

maybe even softer now

as if it puts in all its warmth to call to you 

screaming grasping

i need warmth too

but flames crackle louder than you remembered

and you like it better that way

his voice is a burning fire

mine fades into the smog

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