literary magazine
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By April I woke up to nothing Nothing but facts. That’s all I could remember. It was like my mind was a canvas painted in math equations. There was no feeling to it No memories Just facts Fact: 5 times 5 is 25. Fact: Frogs are amphibians. Fact: Reptiles can’t run and breathe at the
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By April The doctor said something about a computer chip in my head- In everyone’s head That’s used as an extension of our brain, Storing all our memories and knowledge. My chip kept my knowledge But everything else- My memories Of the world Of my life Of me Of my family Lay in a grave
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By April I get so sick of the monotony That circles the bubble I live in. I watch it ebb and flow Till I find my legs moving on their own Out the door, out of here, somewhere, anywhere away from the same old same old. I just get so tired of coloring inside the
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By April I walked into my school’s office And all I really remember was the black rimmed glasses sitting on the nose of the guy at the front desk, The blur of tiles beneath my feet, The nurses looking at me with confusion…or maybe worry, And hearing myself stutter, “It’s kind of hard to breathe.”
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By April “You’re quiet.” I used to get that a lot, and I didn’t really like it. I’d wish people would come up with different words to describe me. I wanted to be so much more than just ‘quiet’. Heck, a rock is quiet. A stick is quiet. A carpet is quiet. And I didn’t
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By April Little witches with their hats and brooms, Storing extra kit kats in their black costumes. Inflatable dinosaurs that run house to house in their worn-down cleats, As 8-year old princesses mingle with ghosts and vampires in dim lit streets. Jack-o-lanterns eyeing superheroes skipping up to stranger’s doors, As houses hand out free sweets
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By April Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who’s to blame for my every downfall? The mirror gives me no ‘she’ or ‘he’, I just watch my reflection stare back at me.
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By April April’s café snoozes by a lake. People can soak in the view while sipping on a strawberry shake, The same color as the blossom tree standing guard around the shop. It’s breathtaking to see from the rooftop. It looks like the world has been drizzled in pink frosting, And it looks like the
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By April Dear “Baa, baa, Black sheep”, Do you ever wonder If your life goes beyond this cycle of Grow wool, Get sheared, Give wool, And then Rinse And Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Aren’t you sick of
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By Savanna If you were my book, you’d be one of the pretty fonts with the curls At the end of each letter And hearts on my is You would have the prettiest cover, Slivers of gold covering the bookmark I use The book would be fresh, The smell of a new book still on
The Cougar Review 