I don’t want to stick out like a weed in a field of wildflowers.

My petals don’t exist. They’re broken, folded, and torn.

Theirs are pretty, furbished, and bright.

They claim they’re like me, ripped open flowers.

I wish for that curse to be lifted upon them.

Nobody should have to bear the burden I cost on others.

Their petals should continue to shine.

If I could, I would take all their bad petals....

Why do roses bear their thorns?

Roses are pretty, similar to other flowers

They have very charismatic powers

But, every rose needs their protection.

Something to help them bear with attention.

Whether unwanted or needed,

Their opinions on the matter are yet to be conceded

Roses need the thorns as a level of support

Something they wear to not get hurt

But, sometimes the thorns don’t stop them fro...

(Imagine this song with the music of that one part in the Queen song where it’s like “GOTTA LEAVE YOU ALL BEHIND AND FACE THE TRUTHHH”)

I knew she was evil. Well, corrupted. Not evil. It was never her intention. The death of Kristi and Hayden must have sent her off the deep end. But, she wasn’t malicious. That would be me lying to you.

She was kept closely in my arms. I stroked a piece of her ...

“Shit.” I glanced out at the entrance as everyone unloaded from the truck. “I didn’t realize how many people would be here. It’s only a local festival, there surely can’t be this many people here.” A sea of colorful festival-goers flooded every inch of the grounds, filling the air with laughter, chatter, and yelping.

Someone put their hand on my shoulder, slightly scaring me, causing me to jump. ...

“Forgiveness.

Can you imagine?”

I stared at the message she sent me.

“I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t the one she needed to apologize to.

What about everyone else’s lives she had ruined?

I was the youngest out of them all.

Did she assume no one else wanted to even speak to her?

Why was it me she chose?

I had no choice but to accept.

What else could I do?

She hadn’t hurt me the worst.

I accepted it with a ...

(The writing for this prompt I wrote IS gross. I know it is. Read with caution.)

“I love you.” I said to her.

I knew it wouldn’t be returned. She hated me now.

Her corpse had its eyes open. They looked up at me with love. Love, to me, at least. How beautiful. I leaned down next to her slowly. The gash on her face continued to bleed past her final breaths. She was alone with me. All quiet. N...

We had eye contact. I know we did. His eyes locked with mine. My heart fluttered. Did he know he was staring? He didn’t seem to mind. Neither did I.

Quietly, Cherri stood up to go get one of the markers from a friend. Both of them looked at me, mouthed agape. “Did you see?! He was staring!” One of them stopped coloring to whisper-yell. “I know! I can’t believe it.. Do you guys think he likes me?”...

A soft ballad played above on the speakers overhead. On the screen in each of our rooms, one face played. Charlotte. Subject 5-2. I sighed, covering my face and crossing my legs on my bed. Savannah looked at me, face sad. “Why?” Was all she asked. “Why would you do that to her? Charlotte did nothing to you.”

I looked up at her, not being able to hold her gaze. “It was her or all of us.” I shrugge...

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The sound of a pencil rubbing against the paper as I wrote.

Nothing too noticeable. We were all looking down at our papers.

We thought nothing would interrupt our peace.

The announcements blared, a bang echoed nearby.

I prayed to the Lord above, grabbing my pencil and hiding behind the other end of the door.

The man walked in, armed and ready.

He was ready. But I wasn’t...

Orange.

The color of the warming sun.

Or the name of the fruit I loved to eat.

Peel, peel, peel.

I eat the fruit in the middle.

Tastes sweet. I savor the flavor.

Orange.

The color of the warning sign.

Or the color of the pill bottle in my cabinet.

Pop, pop, pop.

I swallow the pills from the bottle.

Tastes bitter. I savor the flavor....