Make it Write

Poetry & Prose

December 1999

by Missy Clark, 15
[email protected]

My eyes are filled with tears my heart is filled with fear.
I sit here on the stairs because i'd rather be alone. If i can't have you
right now i'll wait here.
I told you mother take things slow it'll work it's self out fine.
You're always in a hurry to get things done you rush until life's no fun
life's party hasn't even begun
I miss you sometimes i wish my heart was made of stone.
It feels alright to cry it even feels alright to tell you i don't love you
but that would be a lie.
sometimes i see your beautiful face in the sky so hear my cry.
You can email me at: [email protected]




Strips of Neon
by Skye, 16
[email protected]

Strips of Neon
Wounds Tightly Around
Female Form
Bright Lights
Carry Me Home

Strip Me Of All Neon
And You Will Find
A House With
Blank White Walls
Waiting To Be Thought Upon

Anxious Nail Biting
For The Pain To Come
And Rob The Walls Of Their

Strips of Neon

Strip Me Of All Neon
And You Will Find
An Angry Girl
Loud Motorcycle Voice
Red Neon Angry Eyes

What Is Wrong With Me?
What Is Wrong With Me?

Cover Me
In Strips Of Neon
And You'll Be Safe
Warm Happy
Neon Girl

Lights Flicker From
Behind The Plastic Colored Coating
You Don't See

Only Strips of Neon

My Angelou
by Skye, 16
[email protected]

I come to her for Guidance
and am swimming in her words
I once was lead thru halls of Glory, I say
fields of gold and skies of blue
I once danced with Prophets
and sang with Saints
I once was placed upon the Highest beam of Light

but Now I say
the wind has torn down
the Kingdom of my Dreams
But now I find my home in the Dirt
and crawling space
But now I Trip over Words
and Stumble over Sentences
and find Solace in the Darkness.

What am I to do?

She lends me an Eager ear
and Whispers thru black in Words
Still you Rise
like the Very dust
you Rise

I come to Her for guidance
and she reminds me thru
dusty library books
that even phenomenal women
get the Blues.

And so,
I rise
I rise
I rise

by Skye, 16
[email protected]

My face is scarred from all your goodbyes
Somehow I don't think this is the end

by Skye, 16
[email protected]

The colors drip to your empty canvas
from the sunset of my soul

M A K E   I T

Home | Me, Myself, & I | Relationships Unlimited | Justice Now | Spaceship Earth | The Gallery
Hey Terra! | Been There Stories | Solutions In Sight | The Story | Polls & Activities
Discussions | Search | Site Map | About Us | About Annie Fox

©1997-2017 Electric Eggplant
last updated August 24, 2005
This site hosted on