By Hannah Myers, '23.

It’s interesting how

You never see the same sunset twice

I like forget other people

Exist in my world too

I like to skip

In the rain

And draw

In the snow

The faces of the forgotten

But now everything beautiful

Is faded

Faded from the beating sun

It just doesn’t stop, does it

Coming back day to day

To haunt us

To remind us

We’re still here

It’s hard to live

In a world that doesn’t love

It’s hard to love

In a world that refuses to live

All I see are people dwelling

Sinking in a muck

A muck in the beating sun

That continues to swallow

And never dry

Simply just



Recent Posts

See All

By Alana Sayat ​ Albert laughed, looking up at the bloodied sunset. “Hell of a Tuesday, eh?” he said, looking around at the men. They were all soaked in sweat, their skin flaking off onto the ground.

By Jane Doe. My Conifer yearns for love, just like anybody else. She'd fall head over heels everyday for her unadmitting, golden sweetheart, Though her blunt stilettos dig deep into the ground And her

By Alea Ramsey, '23. She wore her scars like wings This life has hurt her with no regret. This world has changed her into someone new. Those sweet ocean eyes forget What they’ve seen that made them sm