I don’t want to see beautiful pictures anymore
Of nature, of emotion, and of life.
I’m sickened by them. Weakened
I notice them too facilely
I don’t want to experience anymore extravagances
I’ve stopped searching for what wonders have to offer
There’s no purpose. It just leaves me strained
Why would I want to pay heed at all?
When no one else is
When there’s nobody to stare and be caught with me
No one to share with before it becomes spoiled
What state of value could they sell to me then?
Never would I recycle these memories
Recycling continues to circulate
Everything is beautiful. I allow myself to become
entranced into its performances
In the end. In every end I’ve kept projecting with myself
No one except me seems to be looking
But then again, what brings you?
-- Nathan V., 9th-12th Grade