Untitled
January 2011 (9th Grade)

Whispers from beneath transform into a symphony of relief.
A thousand screams live on in a smeared photograph.
The purple strom rains on, but the light still shines.
Beauty fades through time, 
and shots in the dark disapate in the forest.
Life drowns in a lake
as petals wither in the wind.
Love is always there when you come home.