Latin: /'vɒks pɒpjʉliː/ VOICE OF THE PEOPLE

It's Winter and we're Migrating

Exciting web developments are allowing us to migrate to an independent page of the school website within the month.

Monday, March 7, 2011

The Sentence by N Smith

Burning tongues of fire lick at my feet,
I turn my head to the quickening beat.
Cold fingers of ice caress my knee,
I look down, but there's nothing to see.

The feathers of touch tickle my soul,
Aroused I inquire; the beats grow weary.
Softly and quickly my arms turn to lead,
I ponder over all that I've said.

Questions and statements all mixed in with hate,
Depressed and disheartened I embrace my fate.
Moments of silence creep in with the cold,
While fiery glares keep my life on hold.

With desperate pleas I lay down the truth,
I slowly bring forth the sickening proff.
Sadly, alas, the gesture's too late,
My life has been captured by sugary bait.

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