Strange: The Senior Young Writers Group Zine 2023

Self esteem
It falls with a crash, but their ears can’t hear. I feel it go down,
down, taking my insides with it, taking it to a place where the
air can’t breathe. They see no change, but the blind never do.
They can only feel, but not someone else’s pain. Words can cut
the inside, but you never taste the blood. A mouth can talk, but
not to ears that can’t listen, not to a bow sending arrows out
only to protect itself.
Books of Many Colours
Books of many colours fill the walls, their spines the backbone
of worldly knowledge.
Questions to be answered and asked, the only portals to exist in
real life. The only way to meddle with time. All on one page.
Their presence seeps through walls, hovering heavily on light
air, pulling hands towards them.
The sudden creek of a leather door as you step through white
parchment pages. You are gone.
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