roses are dead, violets are deader
A couple frames from a poetry night at Booker Middle School in Sarasota…a creative writing class there has a little poetry jam every month where the students share their recent work open-mic style in the classroom. I always knew that middle school was perhaps the most awkward age- the body is changing, too old for elementary school, too young for high school, and the cursed young love comes into play. While I can fully understand a bit of frustration, some of the words coming out of the mouths of these kids were jaw-dropping. I swear, take any one of their poems lay it over some chuga-chuga guitar riffs with some screaming dual vocals, you have yourself some post-emo, tortured mathcore, pseudo goth (but not THAT goth) hardcore music. Amazingly evil while at the same time purely honest.
I should’ve known all of this once I saw The Devil Wears Prada t-shirt the kid was wearing.
