I come in bunches Box chalk full We all clamor and cling Yet you still pull I look like my sisters Like my cousins too Until you pull me straight What use am I to you We live in the office Sometimes in drawers We come from England But are sold in stores You throw me away Now bent and broke Because the paper wont stay And a kid might choke End.

Heartbreak at nine Your words in my head Nails bit short I rot in my bed. Sweet promise of love How could you leave! I lay here to die...

Whimpers of too young lips. Tired from the screams and sobs. Tired of saying no.

(Vol. 11 | Spring 2024 - Cowley Alumni) This blood red sunset Reminds me of the mangos Going bad on the counter Their music so loud last night I couldn’t sleep so I asked them Nicely to turn it down And instead they screamed obscenities And called me names I can’t repeat Tonight when they’re good and drunk I’ll sneak up from behind Their hard rock blasting And throw them into the trash Double-knot the drawstring And take the bag to the curb Tomorrow’s not trash day But some