The Clock
Written: Age - 15

From the moment of our birth
to the end of our life.
Somewhere a clock is ticking.
Someone is keeping time.

Everyone has their own clock.
No two clocks are the same.
Life is not a game.
Can't you hear the ticking?

No one clock is more valuable
then any other clock.
These clocks can't be bought.
They are freely given by our Creator.

Put away your money.
Your Mastercard and American Express.
Monetary value doesn't even begin
to wind the stem.

Shadows
Written: Age - 12

Blood drained from her face.
Like mercury in a thermometer.
shadows of tree limbs, Grotesque.
Arms reaching out menacingly,
to grab her.

Chirps of tree frogs became sinister.
Invisible and hauntingly.
Tree limbs stirred by a light breeze.
Outlining vines, twisting and turning.

They took reptilian forms.
Some even looked like hawks.
Their mouths open in soundless
laughter.
Both high pitched and evil.

Cruelty
Written: Age - 12

Cold hard metal faucets are in her head.
She can turn them on and off at her will.
There is a score to settle a revenge to
to call her own.
Smoldering Hate oh so subtle.
Exploding Anger backbone made of metal.
It comes to her naturally, she was born
with it.

The Wagonwheel
Written: Age - 10

My life is like a wagonwheel
the spokes are turning way too fast.
Something has got to give.
I fear it will be the wheel itself.
I am weary from the bumps and ruts.
Each new joustling weakens the spokes.
It may be the next bump -
will completely sever the wheel.

Screaming
Written: Age - 7

A weightless hand smoothes
back my hair.
A familiar voice is
whispering soothing words.
I was numb all over.
Even my head hurt.
I was screaming but
no sound came out.
No one can help me now.