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Grade
11

Off the shores of a white beach

you hear whispers of old bones

yelling through the medium of waves,

repeating over and over the truth

that you can no longer hide.

The threat of midnight

hits the strike of dawn,

and whispers say over and over:

I’m scared.

 

The slamming fists of the waves

burst your inner skull

with a flame that sparks and lights

in a subconscious confinement.

These fists pound, reminding you

of the person that told you

‘life isn’t black and white’ -

I guess we both understand now

that they were right.