 By Madison Grill, Portland High School
Behind blue eyes she hides Fingers tracing the past scattered from left to right she can't think she can only feel If you knew you wouldn't believe But if you believe then you definitely don't know She's shaking Her heart breaking But she'll say she is fine as if she doesn't feel completely forsaken All she can see is the hatred Knows nothing about what life truly is Because she hiding trying to save herself Because without you she can't care for herself When she's alone it just gets worse As her pain becomes evident on her arms Leaving scars of course but you wouldn't know You left long ago And though they'll say how happy she is They have no idea how she really broke Behind blue eyes she hides a pain deeper than her own demise About the Author: Madison Grill, a sophomore at Portland High School, writes poetry when she's stressed because it's one of the few ways she can display her emotions in a healthy form.
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 BY: Claira Humphrey, Kingsley High School
Sometimes life grabs you by the balls and you just want to lash out. Get in fights. And hope that one day someone will hit you hard enough that you forget the pain in your gut, Because it's easier to spit out teeth and blood and get back up with scraped knees; Than it is to constantly try and piece my life back together again. Smoke and drink; And hope that destroying my liver and lungs, Will make the pain in my gut and the lack of breath make more sense, Because emotions shouldn't make me feel like my insides are rotting. Endure physical pain, And hope others finally understand; Because a scraped knee, A broken bone, Is more comprehensible than the fact that my life is shred to pieces, So tear away my body. Let me rot. Leave me bloody and broken. Because physical means makes so much more sense, Than a heartbreak caused by nothing in particular. It’s so much easier to ice a swollen jaw, Than it is to mend something invisible to the eye. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Claira is a senior at Kingsley High School. She grew up in Traverse City until she was 13, when she moved to California where she lived for the next 4 ½ years. She is happy to be have moved back home in August. When Claira is not writing, she can be found at home with her family, working, or spending time with her boyfriend. She is looking forward to her future in Kingsley as well as with writing.  BY: Carson Yencar, Ionia High School
You may think that hands are useless, That they can’t do the impossible things, Or even the simplest tasks. So what’s the point of having hands? Well, I will tell you, That hands can lead to the greatest discoveries, Or even to the smallest successes, Of our daily lives. They flow across a piece of paper. They awaken a world unknown to humankind. They have the soul of a lover, And a feeling of love is transported to others, With one single touch. So, to think hands as useless, Is to think less of ourselves as human beings. For our hands define who we are, And who we are meant to be. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Carson Yenchar is a senior at Ionia High School. She loves to write, read, put on theatre productions, and hang out with her quirky friends. She wants to be a writer when she grows up, and is not very good with talking. Thank goodness writing comes in handy because without creativity and wonder, the world would be a less interesting place.  BY: Krystal Steele, Harrison Community High School
I hear many a tale, Of it sacrificed, stripped, stolen, And even offered up willingly, To one who’d spend it on pleasure, Without a second thought. Yes, I’ve heard and dreaded, Choices coming my way, To keep it would be a struggle, To lose it just too easy. I’ve wondered if now, Those spent, worn, used, Feel they’d bought anything, Worthwhile. I speak of purity, Of innocence, And naivety, All in good measure. Not unlearned, But not exposed. What I have seen is people, With regret and tear filled eyes, Telling their tale, And how much they wished, They’d save their body, Their innocence, their love, For the one they’d hold for life: A husband or wife. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Krystal loves to write and to climb trees. She has a twin brother, and both Krystal and her brother are hoping to attend college for the a career in the medical field.  BY: Brittany Davis, Ionia High School
I am from knives, from bleach and vinegar I am from the couch that eats you every time you take a seat Dim, quiet never really felt like home I am from the giant blossom tree, the wilted rose in the dirty vase I am from the loud laughter, loud fighting, from the strangers I do not know I am from the loud parties, and the heavy drinking From the “I will never leave you,” and the biggest lie ever told, “I love you” From the getting up for church every morning pretending to be someone they are not. I am from brokenness and pain But I am from standing tall and living through it all. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Brittany Davis is a senior at Ionia High School and an editor of MIteen Writers.  BY Kaitlyn Richardson, Ionia High School
We’ve been so many places. We’ve been far and wide. I’m with you everyday, always by your side. We’ve been on great adventures, that often left us torn. We’ve been through quite the weather, snow, rain, sleet, or a roaring thunderstorm. I was with you on the field, the battle of the bands. How could I forget? I witnessed it all first hand. Although sometimes you stink, leaving me to deal with the smell. I regret none of it, and we get along quite well. Youth pushed us to explore, To discover new ground that were under. It has been truly beautiful to experience the wonders of the younger. I get you where you need to go No matter where you are. I’ll always travel with you, So please, my friend, travel far. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kaitlyn Richarson, a senior at Ionia High, is the embodiment of an M. Night Shyamalan plot twist. Likes to think she's cool but makes puns like there's no tomorrow. Looks like a hawaiian tourist, hip grandma, or an edgy tumblr aesthetic. Enjoys cold pizza, tie dye shirts, and Korean hip hop. Dislikes bananas, clowns, and unrealistic and idealizes images of female beauty in our corrupt modern media discourse. Most likely to be found wherever the latest theatre production is, the band room, or in her car, on her way to another activity. Gets too excited over high quality marching band performances. Is bad at segues and math.  BY: Layna Buskirk, Ionia High School
He is your cup of tea The perfect mixture of milk and black coffee He is so tender and sweet A breath of air for starving lungs Compared to the others. But he loves you He is so tender and sweet He is a breath of fresh air Compared to the others They are all dead to me He is your favorite candy That mix of salty and sweet He's the first boy to meet your family Everyone says he treats you so sweet He is your everything People start to notice Don't let them see he whispers as you drift off to sleep you wince when he moves you cry because you're starving Your ribs are showing The bags under your eyes Are permanent shadows of every time you lied To protect someone who only causes destruction But he is your world Or so it seems You're in the ER and don't know how or why Your parents say he beats you But you tell them thats a lie He loves me you whisper For your voice is to hoarse He is gone none Completely out of sight But he held such love in his eyes He prized me He would never hurt me But he did. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: I have a long story and I tell it through poetry. Layna Buskirk is a sophomore at Ionia High School and a member of the editorial team at MIteen Writers. |
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