escape
Writing
The Boy
By Dylan ChanThe room around him was littered with junk food packaging. Piles of them. Crumbs patterned his desk. His eyes were bloodshot red and his arms stiff, due to days of slim to none motion. His hair was a fury of strands and his soiled clothes unwashed for weeks, both reeked unpleasantly.
HOUSE FIRE, ONLY ONE VICTIM, WHAT WAS SHE SAVING?
By Annie BarryEmbers in my hair, black dust getting to my lungs. Red, yellow, purple, blue fire in front of me, behind me, beside me. Above and below me. Within me.
Escaping This Place
By Michelle LasconThis is not my place.
The smile I wear is fake.
Constantly fighting to escape your
embrace,
The proof of my struggles remains on
my face.
Through tears in the dark I turn over
to see-
A stranger, a monster, lying next to me