There's a light that preys on muted hearts
Neither nor the same, neither nor apart
An inkling that grows like a tumor, so weary
But it only exists in psychological theories
It pokes and prods, pesters and plays
You'll feel mental anguish for weeks or days
When the hour of depression strikes its peak
You'll feel your life has grown too bleak
Though it looks at you in a comforting manner
Engaged in its smooth tone, wits, and banter
And if you so fall for hypocrisy and flattery
Only then will you face cruel reality
These days I feel no more
Yesterday was a memory long-lived before
The future is bleak at these hollow doors
Today, like the others, I knock on wooden war
Trojan gifts I lead, roped in shackles of shame
My head starts to spin, though he tells me I'm sane
Insane, I must be to understand his velvety vocals
Such a siren calls to lure in desperate locals
Though in this matter of thinking, deer and headlights are the case
My beating organ pounds as those eyes hunger to chase
That freak in my mind won't bare to settle
Warm words don't cover when cold hands meddle
When I carry the winter weight on my shoulders
My hands will clasp to remember how I'll hold her
She will cry with me tonight as I hold held hands
That child died in me for Time's uncertain plans
--Sophia B., 9th-12th Grade
