Allsorts

Once there were two animals
A dog and a cat
they loved each other to a thousand
One day the owner got a another pet
and he loved it more than them

Have you ever had a little furry friend?

There are many breeds of our friends

Big cats

Small cats

Fluffy cats

They can be cute

but also savage

kittens are cute

so are adult

cats

Bald cats

All cats

Burning in a wave of red
Under a sky as black as lead
Scary, shining, surging, soaring
Hear the fire like a lion roaring
Flames like a beast, devouring all in its path
In the forest, animals feel its wrath
Ready your bags and pack the car
Exit fire filled land and go somewhere far.

Dots of birds soar about
Dots of birds soar about
In the gray-blue sky
Over the dried land of brown grass
Gliding above the herds of sheep and cows
I bark and bark at the group of sheep
As the balls of cotton white waddle about
In the little wooden pen
I tear my eyes away from the white
What a tiring, boring job!
I let out a loud yawn
There in the sky, there is a small flying thing
Orange, black and white, wings and body
Flutters about innocently
What a peculiar, curious little thing!
I glance at the herd of sheep dawdling here and there
Surely it’ll be fine if I leave them for a while
Surely right?
Owner would understand
I chase and chase the butterfly
One paw in front of another
I can feel the wind flowing through my fur
My tongue dangling out of my mouth
O, I’ve never felt so free!
This is what I should’ve been doing the entire time
There the butterfly lands on a tangle of bushes
A mix of sticks and bits
I bounce and pounce onto the winged insect
But it flies away
Into the endless blue
I huff and puff
Sun’s heatwaves swallowing me up
But there in the sticks
There’s something more interesting
A little flash of orange and crimson
Like a mini firework!
More peculiar than a butterfly!
I bend down and look closer
My nose twitching and itching at the strange smell
Why is it getting bigger and bigger?
O, it’s so bright!
The firework’s so large
But why is it so deathly hot?
I bark and howl
And try to escape from the scarlet hug
But then it gets brighter
Owner, why?

It’s a place where we relax
Where our favourite food is made
Where you could be yourself
We thought our parents were superheroes
With those cool super powers
More amazing than the others
More perfect than perfect
That they would love us
No matter who or what we are
Forever and ever
But then we get older
More mature
More mysteries uncovered
In realizing that our parents weren’t perfect
We realize that they made more mistakes than we did
That those times when they yelled at us
And we thought we did something wrong
But it wasn’t that after all
It was work
Stress
Anxiety
Eating them up
Inside out
We then pull off their super hero cape
Rip it into a million pieces
Then put it into the box
Of unreal things
Getting older is wondering
How much did my parents sacrifice
Just for me?
Just so I could be happy?
Those times when they bought you ice cream
That time when they gave you that toy for your birthday
You realize they gave up so much
Oh, so damn much
Just to see a smile on your face
That innocent, bright smile
Then you stay up at night
Would life be better for them
If I never happened?
Would they be able to pay those bills and taxes
If I wasn’t there?
Those sleepless nights
Those tear-stained pillows
That’s exactly what you think
Over and over
Again and again
Getting older
Means more problems for yourself
Realizing who you are
And your place in this world
And then you tell your parents
But instead of hugging you
Telling you it’s okay
They yell at you
Give you a lecture
Or just say it’s a phase
But it isn’t
And there go the deep sleeping
And welcome the crying nights
Endless
Hurting
They said they would love us
No matter what
Why are they yelling then?
Why are they trying to change me?
Why don’t they understand?
You want to scream
Cry
Yell at them
But you can’t
Because there isn’t a point
Then you feel like
The string connecting you and your parents
Is breaking apart
You feel like you aren’t close enough with them anymore
Unlike when you were younger
They would take you to the mall
You would laugh and smile
And they would too
But now?
It feels numb
Different
You don’t feel happy unlike before
And you notice they aren’t happy too
You want to get closer with them
You try and try
But you can’t
There’s just something missing in the puzzle
Then you give up
Don’t bother anymore
School is your escape
With friends and teachers
You’re happy there
Because they understand
They don’t care who or what you are
They let you be who you are
So you don’t have to think about them
Those thoughts are pulled out
But then you go home
And think and think
Why aren’t they happy?
Why aren’t I happy?
I want to be younger
Just to see them smile
That real smile
You don’t know what’s real anymore
You don’t know if that smile if even true
Is it fake and forced?
Who knows
You don’t even know if your own smile is real
You know you are happy
When in school
Your escape
But it doesn’t matter anymore
Because the past is done
You’re already growing old
It’s too late to fix it
But you try
Despite knowing you can’t do anything
About your age and happiness

Just carelessly pacing towards freedom,
Forgetting about the closest thing you can get to it.
If you have freedom you likely have happiness.
But it just slipped from your grasp
It replays the feeling of once being held,
but there’s nothing
like a TV static.

Today i visited my local museum.
I was so excited.
I was walking to the ancient isle which was dark and gloomy
Little did I know that Sandy the ancient mummy awaited me.
Me and my mum were walking as per normal
when the door swung open!
Sandy, the 1238465 year old mummy, stepped out
I knew that we would be BBFs
but mum said she’s a bad influence
but we did anyway
But mum was right.
She ate my bunny!!!

There was once a cow who loved to bow,
and there was once a rabbit who loved to eat carrots.
So one day they had a play date but they had to wait.
They were both in their houses
They sighed and said, Oh no!
Today is such a bad day!
But both their own mother’s quietly said,
“We had these times but we never sighed or cried!”
“Now, now come I’ll read you your favourite book!
So from that day on they never sighed or cried!

Blink.
Breathe.
Count: 1, 2, 3.
Wipe away the tear that escaped.
Blink.
Breathe.
Count: 1, 2, 3.
Wipe away the tear.
Pretend you are fine even though you are breaking little by little…
That is my routine. Take the day one by one.
Hide your fear, your stress, your tears. Don’t let them see your true self.
I can’t be a kid. I’ve had to be as mature as an older kid
since I was the age of a kindergartener.
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t fake it anymore.
The tears have been wanting to come out for months now. But I don’t let them.
I have to be smart, be mature, act older than I am.
I never had those blissful childhood years.
I never had the cute, themed, little-kid classrooms everyone else had.
It was fine when I was younger.
I didn’t understand that those years of my life would slip away.
I didn’t understand that it was possible to miss something you never had.
I miss those years.
I wish I had those memories.
But I don’t.
I have to be a perfect student.
I have to get perfect grades.
I have to be perfect.
I’m eleven years old. I’m in seventh grade. I’m too young for this.
My brain is always running its own wild course.
What if? What if? What if?
As I walk through the halls of my school, I hear cheers.
“Fight! Fight!” they scream.
I stop. Lift my eyes from the ground. There is a fight.
Thump-thump-thump goes my heart.
The goal is no longer to get to my class on time.
It is to arrive there unscathed.
I can see my class up ahead.
I have to pass through the fight and the kids egging them on.
It’s not safe.
My heart vibrates.
My head swirls.
My muscles tense.
My breathing gets ragged.
I miss my mom.
I miss my dad.
I miss my sister.
They’d protect me, I know it.
But at school, it’s every kid for themselves.
I can be risky and pass through the fight,
hopefully getting to class on time.
Or I can take the long way around, safe, but late to class.
Part of my brain yells,
“Go through it. It does not matter if you get scraped or pushed.
Be on time. BE PERFECT!!!”
“No. Stay safe.”
C’mon, Sophia.
Go the long way around.
This won’t end anytime soon,” the other part of my brain screams.
I have to decide.
I blink.
I close my eyes and count.
I take a deep breath.
I wipe away my persistent tear. Repeat.
I’m going through.
I have to be perfect.
I go in. I quicken my pace. I walk through dozens of kids.
There are so many people that I can’t see what is happening.
This is not a new thing.
At my school, it’s a surprise if a day goes by without this.
I am accustomed to this.
‘I just wanna go home,’ I think to myself.
‘I don’t wanna do this anymore.’
I look up at the last minute.
Two kids are chasing each other, laughing. I dodge.
My backpack takes the hit, and it falls.
The kids look back, but just laugh and turn around, ignoring me.
I bend down, shielding my head with one arm.
You never know what might happen.
My backpack safely back on me, I keep going.
BAM!
Out of nowhere, a kid pushes me.
I stumble against a locker.
“Ow…” I cry weakly. The kid just smirks, laughing.
“Do you have a boo-boo, little kid?
Do you need your mommy?” he says, laughing even more now.
I don’t show feelings.
I just stare at him with a stern glance.
Inside, I am crying. ‘Yes!’ I want to say.
‘Yes, I need my mommy! I AM hurt! I can’t take this anymore.’
I rub my sore shoulder.
This is not okay. This should not happen.
Two minutes have passed now.
The one-minute timer appears on the clock—one minute to get to class.
The crowd has started to disperse.
I’m scared.
I take a deep breath.
I tell myself, ‘Keep going.’
I walk to class. I sit down at my desk.
I open my computer. I do my bellringer.
My heartbeat slows,
but I know it won’t get completely normal until I get home.
“Today, we will…” my teacher starts.
I want to focus and be neurotypical like my friends.
But I can’t.
I simply wait until the sheet is passed out.
My foot taps, tap-tap-tap-tap.
I flex my fingers, flex-flex-flex-flex.
I fidget, fidget-fidget-fidget-fidget.
My mind runs on its own tracks.
I can’t control it. I think of random things.
My teacher passes out the papers.
I jump, fold my hands on my desk, and smile at my teacher.
I act as if I have been paying attention the whole time.
I look at the paper. I see what it asks to do and do it. I turn it in.
I feel empty. I want to go home.
I dread school. Not for doing work.
For my sanity. It got worse on a seemingly normal, IAR testing Thursday…
I was done with my IAR test.
The bell rings. Time for science.
I don’t have to move classes
since science is led by the same teacher as homeroom.
My friend comes in.
We chat and finish our work.
She asks what I am playing, looking at my computer.
I explain the game.
She goes on it herself.
We play side by side until two minutes before the bell.
Both of us have 504s.
We can leave class early.
I am lucky.
I just don’t know it yet.
I’m lucky because I can stay in the same class for another period.
She starts to leave.
I wave goodbye to her
and tell her to keep me posted on her advancements in the game.
She laughs and agrees. She leaves.
I won’t know if she made it to class safely until I am at home.
I don’t know what happened to most of my friends.
I sit at my W.I.N. desk and open my computer.
It sounds like there is a fight outside.
People are yelling. I roll my eyes.
Can’t these kids give it a rest?
But it is more than just a fight.
Because a girl freezes in her stride.
“EVERYONE! SHHH!” she yells, frightened. “What?” I ask.
I wonder exactly what happened to make her so scared.
“There is a code red! Everyone, quiet. Listen!”
No one pays attention. The class is so loud that we can’t hear the loudspeaker.
My teacher steps out of the classroom to check.
She returns, anxious.
“Everyone. Hide,” she says.
The last drill we had was ages ago. I don’t remember where to hide.
The kids file into her closet to hide.
The teacher looks confused. I have a feeling that is not where we are supposed to hide.
I stay frozen.
Where to hide?
What to do?
What is happening?
Screams, blood-curdling screams, can be heard outside.
A kid runs into the class. He is one of my friends.
Something tells me he just barely escaped.
A different kid frog-walks to the closet.
I can’t tell if he is trying to be funny or trying to be stealthy.
I go into the closet. It seems safe.
Another kid skips around the room.
He says that if he is going to go, he is going to go having fun.
My heart vibrates.
My head swirls.
My muscles tense.
My breathing gets ragged.
I think this is real.
I hide under a shelf. I clutch the toy I brought to school that day.
He helps. He is a puppy. His name is Noble.
It helps to take care of something.
It helps to feel like the goal is not to survive.
It is to take care of my dog.
But
My head still swirls.
My heart still vibrates.
My muscles are still tense.
My breathing still is ragged.
I miss my mom
I miss my dad.
I miss my sister.
I miss my dog, Peanut.
I hear my dad say, “Have a good day at school! See you later!”
I feel the kiss my mom gave me when I left.
I hear my sister say, “Love ya, little sis.”
I feel my dog’s wet lick on my cheek.
I’m scared.
Some kids ask my teacher for gummy bears.
How? How are they thinking about snacks? When we could die.
A kid hides in a cupboard.
“Sophia.” He whispers. I look up. My eyes are red, but no tears have come out.
“Find a cupboard,” he says. “You’ll fit, if I can.”
I am too scared to talk. I nod my thanks instead.
I try to text my parents before entering the cupboard.
“I love you. There is a code red. I think it is real.”
But.
My watch does not pick up the wi-fi.
Not sent, it says.
I used to think the worst feeling was being anywhere without my parents.
I was wrong.
The worst feeling is thinking you will die without your family knowing you love them.
I sit in that cupboard with my toy.
Kids are crying, even the ones who act tough.
The kid who entered class at the last minute
is putting baking soda and salt on a stapler.
“I can jab him in the eyes if he comes,” he says,
talking of the shooter we all presumed was prowling the building.
Some kids think that nothing is happening.
They go to the actual classroom and just hang out.
I stay in my cupboard.
It’s one of the safest places.
I don’t plan on leaving any time soon.
Suddenly, we hear
BANGING
On the door.
Kids scream and run into the closet.
I can’t see what is happening.
For all I know, a murderer entered the room and killed my friends.
I am scared.
Scared.
Scared.
Scared.
False alarm, they say.
Sure, there was banging, but the person left, they say.
It does not reassure me.
After a bit, the kids leave again.
After about half an hour, the loudspeaker says it is all clear.
But I am still scared.
Every time I close my eyes, from that day forward,
I hear the screams.
The screams of kids outside.
I will remember this day forever.
We all thought there was a murderer in the building.
But they say it was a fight. The fight got out of hand.
So a teacher pulled the alarm.
My mom picks me up early and cradles me.
I thought that I would never see her again.
My dad rushes home and hugs me.
I thought I would never see him again.
When my sister comes, she hugs me too
I thought I would never see her again.
I pet my pupper.
I thought I would never see him again.
An email is sent from the school. They called it an incident.
Said they could not disperse the crowd. They say it was a mere five minutes.
I was hiding in that cupboard for ages.
Now, every time an alarm or timer goes off, I jump. Now, I jump at everything.
I will never be the same again.
But I keep going.
Because I have to be perfect.
Because I have been trained my whole life to be a good student.
But I have learned that the goal is not to be perfect.
That you keep going not for others, but for yourself.
Because you are the one who will live the rest of your life.
Keep going for yourself.
You are your own saviour.

I set a point down by the road.
Water flows in but I don’t dare put another mark.
Beautiful, glowing water.
I watch the flames
I set that point by the road.
Synced, harmonised fire glistening under the sun.
Reflecting what it sees, reflecting what it wants.
The water on the hill does that too,
it’s cold and makes you want to stay.
The fire doesn’t do that,
the fire is hot
and makes you whip your hand backwards
once you get too close.
Looking deeper mesmerises brains,
taking them away
every other day.