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Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
we were fourteen kids.
there were enough of us
to fill a classroom,
but we rarely went to school.
we learned what
we needed to know
from the streets.
school was pointless.
multiplication and cursive
wouldn't keep us alive.

one of us was almost sixteen,
in the wrong place
at the wrong time.
he got mistaken for
someone else, and he was
stabbed over and over
and over and over again.
we were thirteen kids.

two of us were nineteen
and almost twenty,
walking down a block
that wasn't ours.
we heard the shots
from our street
a few blocks over.
we were eleven kids.

one of us was thirteen
and on our block
where she thought
she would be safe.
she was pulled into an alley
and hurt in the worst ways.
she found out
she was pregnant
a few weeks after.
we didn't hear the gunshot
when she took her own life,
but we all knew she was gone.
we were ten kids.

one of us saw his brother
gunned down in
broad daylight.
he couldn't stop
replaying the scene
in the back of his mind.
he grabbed a Glock 19,
and he took the lives
of four kids from
the other side of town.
he disappeared that night
into the glow of
blue and red lights.
he rotted away in a cell.
we were nine kids.

one of us was a hero.
he pulled a woman
out of a burning car
and lost his life
in the process.
the newspapers refused
to show his story
when they heard
what neighborhood
he came from.
he died a hero, but
he would never be seen
as anything but a villain.
we were eight kids.

five of us lost so much
that eventually we had
nothing left to lose.
the gang life called,
and five of us answered.
we knew that
they couldn't be saved.
these streets don't
give people back.
and they'll take you,
dead or alive.
we were three kids.

one of us was twenty
and he thought that
he would make it out
of here, onto better things.
he was making dinner
for his younger sisters,
two beautiful little girls.
a stray bullet burst
through the window
and took him down.
the last thing he saw
was those two little girls
who he loved more
than you could ever imagine.
he was their older brother
and their parent and
their best friend, all at once.
they watched him fall
and never get back up.
we were two kids.

one of us made it.
she grew up, and she
moved far away from
our old neighborhood.
but those memories and
those losses and that pain
never left her mind.
she turned to pills
and then to needles,
and one day, she
took a little too much.
I was one kid.

I am one kid, now grown,
with thirteen dead friends.
I am a survivor, but that
isn't something to celebrate.
I shouldn't be a survivor
because none of this
should've ever happened.
we should still be fourteen kids.
Kenneth Gray Nov 2020
Daddy,  I heard you talking to that meany, Mr. Suicide
But I don't want you to go daddy!
I don't want you die!
What about me daddy?
What if you make me cry?
I'm gonna miss you daddy
I'm not gonna lie!

I'm so sorry, baby!
You're absolutely right!
What was I thinking, sweety
It'll all be alright
Just for you, my darling
I'm gonna win this fight

Promise me, daddy
That you're not going to lose!
Promise me, daddy
That its me who you choose!
Promise me, daddy
That you'll be tying no knoose!

I promise you, sweety
That its all in the past!
I promise you darling
That its not gonna last!
I promise you baby,
These ideas have been cast!

Goodbye, Mr. Suicide
You just cannot stay

Don't you see
For my darling,
I cast you away?

Goodbye Mr. Suicide
Now my answer is nay

Can't you see
For my sweety,
I toss you away?

I'm proud of you, daddy
Just know this to be true
You're the best, daddy
We can now start anew
Now guess what, daddy
I Love you!

Thank you, my sweety
I love you too!
I decided to rewrite Hello Suicide and say that I'm overcoming it because of the love of family.
Aashi Sinha Sep 2020
I comment “yes daddy” on your videos
You comment “prettiest gurl” on my photos
We are just friends, but just maybe, just maybe we want something more.

a memory

the delhi monsoon, 2016
smashed inkpot like the sky
my head on the bus’s window
yours too
i said, “so what’s up?”

from there you would often turn around, have a look at me, shake your head, let out a shaky breath, give me that lazy smile and your eyes would be showing adoration, you would turn back and answer to my many questions

we talked about our classes, our future maybe not as a pair but as individuals

at some point, you and I started talking about politics, developing ideas out of the very little information that we had.

at some point, you and I started talking about art, dancing our fingers on the glass, creating figures and emotions.

at some point, we got to school

you stood behind me, the kids were just too slow, because the hormones had yet to be released, you were a little taller than me, your head dropped, and you whispered, "I want to be in the same class"

and both of us grinned, pushing all our feelings out, somewhere gloomy, twilight-like, dark and unseen.

you introduced me to your sister
you told me that you wanted to pursue sports
you said will talk to later

neither did you pursue sports nor did we talk again in person

I'm spinning in circles, wanting someone who might be mine, but I'm too scared to do that, trying to make myself believe that you really don't exist. I'm ******* selfish, yeah.

trapped here with the weight of memories and emotions that I don't want to revisit.

boy, boys are bad for you, I am telling you.
Max Neumann Sep 2020
kidz are smoking my songs, drinkin' and sniffin'
welcome to the trip-inn, where magic is grippin'
the tragic city, neon lights, neon lights, demon's nights
i'm all in, never ever falling, swirling frisky, like a frisbee

45 to 88, made myself a shake
beat like an earthquake, first take
crying for a remake, dying for a remake
1000 tons of cheesecake, beafsteakz

yummy yummy, my past was slummy
so, you find tizzop where the ice is
my lifestyle is priceless, priceless
i don't care, nobody is viceless

how could one dare to imitate this flair?
i don't say words, i shout "yeah yeah!"
ipod-white teeth, you stop to breathe
and now be good, baby, get on ya knees
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2020
The swing
The spinning top
The doll
Wooden horses
Battledore and shuttlecock
Trumpet and drum
Soap bubbles
**** in the corner
Blind man's buff
Leap-frog
Little husband, little wife
The ball

Please let me return
To my childhood ways
And the happy games
We played
Jeux d'enfants ("Children's Games") is a suite of twelve miniatures composed by Georges Bizet for piano four hands in 1871.

Inspired by M83's song:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=M5YoTHbdisc
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2020
Riding
The color
Wheel

From
Liftoff
To splashdown

Onyx
Eyelids
Heavy with rheum

Waking to
Laminated
Stick-ons

A vinyl ocean
Of unco adhesion
And snap vacuum

Jettisoned
Trinkets
Of youth

Soaring
Prophetically
Overhead

Acquiescing
As scenes
Of upended worlds

The simple playgrounds
Both remembered
And loved
SophiaAtlas Aug 2020
Welcome to our generation
Where kids pretend to smile
They pretend to be happy,
When in reality,
They're broken,
Beat,
Hurt,
Tired,
And they just want to die

Welcome to our generation
Where kids self harm,
Starve themselves,
And make themselves throw up
The generation that tries to die

This is our generation
The generation that wants to hide
The generation that wants to die
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