This is sorta similar to peppermint's last poem, but that was mostly coincidential.

the Rain and Thunder and Wind

have come to rip away these

Sticky Summer Days and i Stand

in the middle of it all.

this Storn is not kind -

it beats me down until i am just a

Human Being, Shivering and Small.

it soaks me to the Heart

and freezes me to the Bone,

but i am still Standing,

Stubborn and Strong

and i Stay until the Storm passes,

leaving in its wake a multitude of

Better Days. 

This was a poem I wrote in fourth grade for a research project, at the time, I went through a cryptid creature phase where I would spend hours on my school chromebook googling Loch Ness Monster sightings. :D

A Loch Ness Monster Sighting:

We are sitting by the field on the side of the road.

Watching. Waiting. Whispering.

The sun plays illusions and tricks, the bright water reflecting,

Mysterious things, or far-fetched hopes...as the number of gasps dimish with the passing hours

It's a perfect spot for an eager tourist,

A lush forest around a sparkling lake, a crumbling castle completing the scene.

Like a fairy tale.

Except fairy tales don't disapoint.

"Come on, let's go," they say

"There's nothing here after all."

I close my eyes and make a silent wish to the sky

If you're really there, come out.

Footsteps trudging against the gravel road

Step. Step. Step. Turn.

I shield my eyes from the sun,

Giving one last final look

Splash.

Waves of water erupt like an earthquake over the calm surface of the lake.

A dark figure surfaces slowly.

We've all seen it, on the postcards, on the brochures, on the internet

Nothing, nothing like this.

It has a long, thin neck with a small head.

A curved body with humps shaped like arches on its back 

Somehow, we all know it's her.

Hands scramble for cameras

Voices shout and fingers point

Original destination and thoughts long forgotten

All lost in a moment of shock.

She's beautiful, I say.

Not like a model or a flower,

But a force of nature in a class of her own.

I lean forward, brushing my hand against the water.

My curiosity and fear mixed with awe.

She speeds across the water,

Holding her head above the water proudly

A glimmer of sunlight strikes her scales

But in a moment's blink

Gone.

Disappearing underneath the Loch again.

Mysteriously and quickly, fast as she came

Sliding back into the murky depths

Like a remnant of a faraway dream

Fleeting, but with a beautiful mystique.

Something you'll never see again

And never forget 

Forest of Flames

I’m walking in a forest on fire
I struck the match and
I dropped it in the kindling
I did it, but they were who sought my ire
And now here in ashes I stand

But it is not the time for standing now
I turn to face the sharp North Wind
And walk through the autumn leaves
Each commanding footstep landing
Square until the smoke turns me blind

I turn for the path, looking for the, any escape
I spin in circles, but there is only grey
Hunting, desperate, I search yet seal
My fate with a dark, sad, hopeless laugh
My punishment: predator to prey

Until I see the sad little rose bush
Peeking its hopeful white head up
Shining, sparking, a beacon of hope
Sending me forward with a push
I run, feel the flames behind flare up

I’m out of the raging flames
And red, brown, yellow leaf
And smoldering hopeful flowers
Behind is my unwanted pain
Left is my unnecessary grief

I’m no longer on the road
But does it matter anymore?
Facing the guiding sun, I run
Fast, faster, faster, no more load
After laughter, finally an open door

My feet no longer touch the ground
I feel the string of reality snap
I know I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, finally
It kicks in, the insanity I smiled and downed
Setting me free from monotony’s trap

High in the sky, touching the sun
I turn and see the forest of flames
The fire dances in the crisp autumn air
Now, no one, no one, will forget me
The background girl, no longer quite so tame

the first day of sophmore year, 

I painted my eyelashes with mascara, 

and cried tears of charcoal when I got home.  

the sky was dark in the distance, 

the wind strong, 

so it must have been storming in the high country. 

I wanted to run and run and run, 

until I was standing in the downpour, 

raindrops sliding down my freckled cheeks, 

instead of tears.  

I wanted to feel cool and calm, 

escape the broken air conditioners, 

the splintering friendships, 

the shattered expectations, 

and the sinking feeling in my chest.  

but instead, 

I pulled on a pair of headphones,

held my head up high, 

and kept moving. 

Why do those late summer nights

Drenched in the sweet taste of dew and twilight

Become so entangled with memories 

Lacing through the years

A web

A trap

A careful dance

To keep the tears from falling

From remembering a bit too much

And crumbling into an oblivion

That is so wholly hollow and cold and dark

While being chock-full of bittersweet light

From a long-long golden age? 

How can such a sonorous scent exist?

Why does it exist?

To torment the fragile souls

Who flicker in those short humid hours

Shadowed by something much bigger than the sun

And much more crushing than the past they have escaped? 

Periwinkle Tells Me How She Feels

I feel fake.

I’m a liar because I don’t say what I feel

And I’m not as perfect as I pretend to be

But I can’t tell the truth

Because maybe they wouldn’t like me that way,

Start to say what I want to say but no—

Delete delete delete 

Type something nicer, type something better

These people do not need your petty complaints in their lives

They have it hard enough

And I don’t want to be a burden

I can give them someone to lean on,

I’m strong enough

I can disappear in sweet little white lies,

I can handle it

If only to make their days better

If only to make them happy

If only to make them like me

If only I could remember 

How not to be alone.

I think her world is painted in watercolor, 

all soft colors and soft lines.

it has a quiet feel to it, 

a quiet, peaceful feel, 

like summer picics, 

and sunny days, 

and strawberries. 

my world is colored with markers, 

all sharp colors and sharp lines. 

it's loud and bright and overwhelming.

it's rollercoasters, 

comic books, 

and neon lights, 

and it fits me far better than her soft, silent universe.  

Drip drip drip

Bleeding for a world so far away

Can't hear the screams

Nor feel the tremors

But my existence aches for them.

My rage flares hot and smoky and iron-tinted for others.

How dare they inflict such unspeakable suffering? 

What gives them the right? 

They don't have any valid excuse. 

Instead they deserve to perish miserably,

But alas, the world is not a just place.

Fumes rise from a frigid Earth,

Stained blue with celestial bruises.

Deep underneath lies a stirring warmth -- 

Boiling, machinating under the guise of solid stone

Slabs crumble and submerge and creak,

As if invisible whispers of lost and forgotten beings haunt,

Walking the sheer cleaves and carvings in ice.

All is silent for far too long,

But see, nothing lasts forever.