 Here are the branches that make a tree
Cohesive, together blissfully Just like friendship it's not forced. No fake smile or I love you nots No accidental feelings that hurt They are separate but become one. They are never lonely, maybe just alone They are the branches that make a home. By Patricia Kamara (8th Grade Student, Monrovia, Liberia)
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 Suffering and death,
This ordeal is truly a mess, The flares burning up on a torrid day Will life end this way? Our fantasies mesmerized us Allowing us to parish in the flames. But who are we to blame? Burning and dying, Why are you crying? To say that this isn't our fault, We would be lying. Bury the good with our bones When we'll disappear from our homes. The world is slipping through the fingertips, It's the apocalypse! (8th grade English Class, Monrovia, Liberia) |
AuthorI'm Rebecca Hodel and I love to paint. ArchivesCategories |
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