| The Two Roads | The Essence of Adolescence | An Ode To Shoes |
| So I Am Told | Suspicion | Teenagers Are Amazing |
There was a path
Deep in the woods.
Once it forked-
The bad, the good.
I chose to take
The left-handed path,
I did not know
I had no map.
Now this road that I travel
Is dirty and battered.
It's littered with dreams
That are broken and tattered.
Paved with wrong doings
And dotted with hearts,
That were taken from people
And just torn apart.
Pain and regret
Are common here.
wherever you turn,
They're always near.
I want to cross
To the other path,
And leave behind
This painful wrath.
I thought I was forever
doomed to walk.
And all the gates
were tightly locked.
But as I continued,
A footbridge I could see.
A Bridge of Hope
called out to me.
Slowly I crossed
to the path of good.
Finally I was on the path
Of which I thought I should.
Now hidden deep
Within the woods.
The one that forked;
Paths bad and good.
I once was wrong,
But now I'm right.
And before me
Glows a guiding light.
Altered by
A little step.
So close to falling
In darkened depths.
But I was finally
Pulled to hope.
I found that footbridge,
And learned to cope.
My simple mistake
Following the crowd.
Ignoring the heart
That speaks so loud.
The choices you make
Can change your life.
One will bring happiness,
The other brings strife.
Following the crowd,
Won't lead you to right.
If you follow your heart,
You'll be guided by light.
There was a path,
Deep in the woods.
Once it forked-
The bad, the good.
Heed my warning,
Because I know.
Follow your heart-
You know where to go.
--Whitney Welch
I yelled at Mom
yesterday
'Cause she told me I'm going through
A difficulty age
And I'm not.
So I slammed the door extra hard
When I got up to my room.
And then I yelled at God for a while
Just for good measure
'Cause he made it snow but
Wouldn't close school.
Besides
He parked that damn streetlight
Just where
He knew it would shine in my eyes
Every night when I'm trying to sleep.
And I yelled at the light, too
'Cause it's too bright
And besides
It lights up the snowman
That the kids next door made.
I was too old to make a snowman this year
But that's okay
I've always hated snowmen anyway.
I yelled at the snowman, too
Before I sat down at my desk
Where this old box was sitting...
It had a bunch of
Stupid treasure from when I was little.
Inside was a cotton ball
And some acorns, a dead bee
My eraser collection, and a pen
That had my name of it.
I picked up the box and
Threw it away
'Cause it's dumb to keep that sort of stuff
I put my phone and a romance novel
On the desk instead.
I have to keep my priorities straight.
Then I got home from school today
And I sat down at my desk
I looked for my box.
It wasn't on my desk or in the trash
'Cause today was garbage day
And I say back down and I guess,
I started to cry.
It's too complicated being mad at the world.
--Anne Gepford
Shiny look-a-likes are they,
empty night time, full all day,
travel miles along the street,
though they only move two feet.
When I was thirteen
I stepped
Off my horse
Out of my tall, black leather boots
And into
Running shoes
Into high school
And high-school track
Into high heels and high-school parties
Strutting
Running
Away from the chaos
And back
Strutting
Swinging my legs, my hips
Just enough
Just so, to get the looks
Not the bad ones,
The good
Expensive boots
All the girls have them
Like all the boys have egos
Fake ones
Like fake plastic heels I would never wear
Call me ritzy
I'll call you cheap
In orange, green, and clear
Four-inch heels
little skirts
and I remember
When no one really cared
When our calves hadn't developed into
The sexy, sloping
Line we exploit
When I tried my LA Gears with
One pink shoe lace
And once chartreuse
Like my socks
Like the style
Before the decade turned
Spun into
Steve Maddens and Doc Martins
And Mary Janes
Each with two names
And we all had two face
Sometimes more for more occasions
Meaning more shoes
Overflowing our closets like muddy water
Like the muddy circle
The track I run in the spring rains
In the new Nikes
Glossy white leather flushing to red-brown
That cracks and dries in the summer sun
The heat
That beats down in a country where
These shoes are manufacture
By small, brown fingers
Crescents of dirt under unkept nails
Working fine threads into my shoes
Working from dawn until dusk
In a place where nobody knows
Steve Madden or Doc Martin
Or any other doctor that the baby's mother cries for
And the children cry here
For a new pair of shoes
Here in
Distorted Reality
In crowded
Walk-in closets
Full of shoes.
--Jessica Pinto
I'm a
fourteen-year-old girl with moss-colored hair,
sparkles and funny clothes, who feels lonely
sometimes.
I do not ask to be understood because I can't even
understand myself.
I ask to be accepted,
I ask to be accepted as I am.
I do not want to be told what potential I have, or what
my future holds.
I do not want to be told that I'm going nowhere in life
because I skipped a math test.
I question my existence, my meaning.
I question what the "Real World" is, and why I'm not
there.
I feel happy with no shoes on.
I feel lonesome in a crowded room.
Sometimes my heart bleeds and I cry,
Laughter echoes in my mind.
I am told to be different,
To be myself.
But then I am told what to wear and how to act.
I like to write and rumors hurt.
I don't know how to dance, but I try to anyway.
Please don't try to understand me, nor judge me too quickly.
My name doesn't matter,
My heart is open.
--Alexei Perry
A teenager-
Closely watched by store security
As to avoid any kind of larceny
Through his eyes, this kid is surely a thief.
He surveys her every move
Waiting for the act
So that he can catch her and set her straight.
Straight, unlike her tousled bright-red hair
He shakes his head in disapproval
Does she expect people not to stare?
Impossible
With her graffiti-colored,
Over-sized jeans; too-wide
black clunky boots; too high
topping it off, with nothing at all;
tiny tight shirt, much too small.
Thick silver chains,
her jewelry no doubt,
Make it easy to keep track of her whereabouts
Thanks to the annoying sound they chime
They look ridiculous, as though enslaving her,
Forcing her to go out in public as she does
And yet, she seems confident,
Proud of her image
Security guard wonders when she'll grow up
He paces back and forth-impatiently
As if waiting for her to make the change
to "maturity"
Before even exiting the store
An adult-
Walks by with grace and class
Lengthy blond, businesswoman in designer clothing
Avoiding eye contact,
Dodging shoppers,
Heading directly towards the back of the aisle.
The security guard suddenly remembers his objective
And searches for a young girl who seems to have
cleverly slipped away
He listens for the sounds of the chains
But everything is instantly drowned out
By the noise of the alarm system
JUSTICE.
With a smirk of satisfaction, he turns to face
the scene, to catch a glimpse
of the culprit
And as she lowers her blond head
in shame,
The red-headed teenager pays for her blue nail polish.
--Renee Gauvreau
Teenagers are
amazing,
I wish the world would see,
just how beautiful we are
how compassionate we can be.
I wish they could take back,
all the cynical things they've said,
and see how much we shine,
be positive instead.
Remark on our radiant smiles,
and the differences we make,
all of the people our lives touch,
all the chances that we take.
Notice how we change,
each and every day,
wanting to leave childhood,
yet desperately wanting to stay.
I wish they could remember,
how tough our lives can be,
the promises that are broken,
the violence that we see.
Yet still we venture onward,
unsure of where the road may lead,
hoping they will make notice,
hoping they'll make heed,
of the change that we've made,
of the power that we hold,
of the wisdom we have hidden,
of the stories yet untold.
I hope the world will notice,
what some have already seen,
teenagers are amazing people
striving to follow their dreams.
--Jamie Haskins
