Page 40 - Images Literary Magazine 2016 - 2017.pdf
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Art  by Mike Magiera, Grade 7

        Without a Label                                                                                                                                  The  Thing  Ever y

        By Brooke Struble and Anna Sumner, Grade 8

                                                                                                                                                                Per son  Fear s
         When empires were trees and laughter was rebellion
        Amser cried of broken bones and bruises
        One could run around wildly until truly considered a hellion
                                                                                                                                                                    By: Dan Rot hman, Grade 8
        ?The adult? stood sharply and saw the abuses.
        Yet nothing but a dusty mistake remained
        Once buried beneath the stones of this house                                                                                              ? The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.?     -FDR

        His head tilted as he spoke ?now who is there to blame??

        A new hatred now doused.

        His tearful heart stretched towards the cities beyond                                                                                                                                      Do you know what all people
        Where kindred is treated kindly                                                                                                                                                            fear? Deep down, every person

        Where young deer once fawned                                                                                                                                                               knows. It isn?t death. It isn?t
        His mind absent from his true intentions, he followed a path blindly.                                                                                                                      Acrophobia. It isn?t stage fright. It is
                                                                                                                                                                                                   something more. Something
        Yonder come morning, yonder come night
                                                                                                                                                                                                   darker.
        ?A renovation to come, a renovation in flight?
        The toolshed grew larger with each passing sight                                                                                                                                                Something hidden deep down
                                                                                                                                                                                                   that people tend to forget. The
        A simple intention beginning to rewrite.
                                                              Despite the peeling paint
                                                                                                                                                                                                   reason why people fear it so much
        Walls were torn down; paintings were replaced
                                                              And the rabbit which he clutched
                                                                                                                                                                                                   is because they know nothing
        Yet he felt a small tug
                                                              There was no room for complaint.                                                                                                     about it. Whenever you start to
        And recalled his toys which were now cased
                                                              No longer was there desired riches                                                                                                   think about it, your mind is
        His unforgiving self began to unplug.
                                                              Nor a prudence which rang in his ears                                                                                                crowded by darkness. You don?t
        The stuffed rabbit lined with dust                                                                                                                                                         know a thing. People fear what
                                                              A new appreciation seeps through the stitches
        The past years, alone he had woken                                                                                                                                                         they do not understand. They act
                                                              No longer ashamed of his tears.
        A forgotten part of his mind where he once held trust                                                                                                                                      on that. They do stupid things that
                                                              He lays frigid on the floor with his rabbit
        He had repaired the unbroken.                                                                                                                                                              the world may not forgive them
                                                              His grasp tight and assured
                                                                                                                                                                                                   for. The people involved in these
        He had repaired the untouched
                                                              No more destruction built by habit
                                                                                                                                                                                                   actions pay the price. But we could
                                                              Once a boy, now matured.
                                                                                                                                                                                                   be better. The world could be
                                                              Amser?s red lettered kinfolk
                                                                                                                                    better if we stop acting on our fears. If we realize that we don?t have to understand
                                                              Who now join around the table                                         everything. If people realize that some things should stay not understood. But there is

                                                              Once a stranger who spoke                                             one truth. People don?t understand fear. And that is why the thing that haunts people
                                                              Now a man without a label.                                            the most is not what they fear, it is fear itself.
                                                                                                                                                                                             Art  by Owen Casey, Grade 7
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