The Traumatized Rose The living become like walking corpses Doomed men buried beneath dark lies Under the soil an explosion rumbles in the growling earth The angels of the world descending from the skies Demonic manifestations of evil reborn The weak and scared controlled by the ancient and decrepit The unfortunate are forced to walk

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Diamond Rough Though we grew up among these broken things We were always taught we were good enough Those endless nights and puppet strings Our highlight reels were diamond rough We grew close back then and have stayed together We broke our chains just to be free And danced as light as an angel’s feather

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Fear of the Unknown The different, the strange, the weak are excluded Judgement created by fear of the unknown Where the young are trained to be copies, imitations of unachievable goals Created by the person who helped you stand Courage crushed by insecurities, loud screaming voices, blurred masks In your face, in your phone, in

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Me My anxious, mysterious, joyful thoughts Memories scatter like a school of fish Through the dark waters Of what should not matter To the murky depth Where I hide how I feel, My fanged emotions, My blossoming ideas, Who I am I say how I feel Without opening my mouth I have my own secret

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Stand Up You don’t have a choice Because past generations had no voice Against a religious institution That rules part of our constitution Stand up for what is right And don’t send women on a flight To a foreign destination Because of fault in our nation Anon Underage Drinking They drink, they smoke, they do

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Beautiful Dreams Beautiful dreams are made developed and crushed Your delightful endeavours, silenced and hushed The hot sun burns, the rain pours all night Heart break happens like a blinding light Memories, hopes, ideas and golden dreams Grow in the dirt from impossible magic beans Tears, sweat, and blood are painfully shed And your dreams

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Hope We stand unaware of the impassable future Sitting all day in front of the computer Love buds in the most unlikely of places Among the old broken things and dusty bookcases Retracing our steps to the very beginning We go where the half-light seems to be thinning But we have to remember not to

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