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Isabelle Cate 7H.


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Maddie Kay 8JS. I had witnessed your beauty, Your elegance, And knew much of your power. I was drawn to you Was it the delicate charm of your arm? Or the golden specks that Lay within. I grew closer. Nothing but eager leaps in your Direction; your field of gold Desperately seeking this honey Yet as you unfolded, The gold was too much. I was blinded By my awe of you Aster You released your venom In such a sweet way. I cannot breathe now For your presence suffocates Now all I desire Is frost. The sweeping chill that will abolish All memory of you and your kind.

Even in the harshest of climates You remain the same Sickly sweet Toxic beauty The flowers are all the same. Days filled with fun and learning Helping me soar high. From my early days at school When the foundations were first set. To the last days in the Junior school Which I will never forget. The Emerald Apple Bakery The wuoff of smells enter my nose, oozing rich chocolate, silky smooth cream, thick gold caramel Boiling bread fresh from the oven. My eyes are attached to the cabinets full of goods.

Buttery, crumbly cookies with buttons of lumpy chocolate.

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Foamy spongecake with a thin filling of strawberry jam. Blocks of sunset caramel with a crispy cookie at the bottom and a roof of solid chocolate on the top.

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And a pile of cozy fresh warm bread with a cushiony inside and a crunchy outside. I place a ten dollar note on the polished marble counter and point to a dark chocolate macaroon. With a creamy filling of sweet raspberry. And two smooth biscuits on the top and the bottom.

The lady picks up her tongs and uses them to grab the macaroon. Carefully she places it in a white paper bag with a logo painted on "The Emerald Apple Bakery" it said. And she stuck a small piece of tape on the bag and handed it to me. I walk out of the busy bakery, Bag in hand. I slowly open up the tapped bag and pull out the macaroon. Tastes from every munch come clearly to my starving stomach. Gaby Dunphy 6LA. Every day I wake Every day I wake, My dreams ringing in my head, Reckless ones that hurt, Happy ones that fill you with joy, Or blank ones that you never remember, They go round and round, Like an echo.

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From a blank steely grey, To a swirl of live colours, Of turquoise blue, To a pale green, My eyes are an ocean of colours. I walk around school, My arms straining, To carry heavy books, I look as if I were carrying a ton of bricks, Leaning over the books, As if they were precious, And they are. The only one bright enough, To meet the light of day. For, you're beautifully insane. We cannot touch it, we cannot feel it, but we know that it is there.

We can sense that something is wrong. As time slips away with you, the monotonous humming from the dim strip lighting of the waiting room Acts as music. A white noise. Everything is still. No plastic chair out of place, No cries coming from the rows of rooms between us.

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The dripping of the water fountain, the drooping of the unwatered plant Give this waiting room the stereotypical grey feeling you see in the films. It is dark and whirling Acts as a distraction. The silence speaks a thousand words. I run To where you lay, face pale and stricken with illness. As you lie, holding my hand, a million miles away from me, The cold iron of the bed seems to frost over. The cheap sheets seem to sink.

There is silence now. Complete and utter, gnawing at the loudness in my heart Acts as a sign. When the cold air slaps my face, and I step from where I left you, I can read you, sense your presence behind me. I cannot touch you, I cannot feel you, but I know that you are there. Dead Parents Club. President, now an orphan, without mother without father Yet I know you are with me. You are always with me. Your laugh Acts as a peacemaker. I hate to look at you because it makes me want to cry. I hate to accept my fate that I may end up like you.

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I hate the way you can make me feel on top of the world, I hate that when you leave emotions become unfurled. I hate the way you look at me, guilt dripping from your eyes, I hate that you can take a sunny day and fill it with grey skies. I hate it when you come home, only ever for a day. I hate that in the night, the blue and red lights take you away. I hate that you can come and go as easy as you please. I hate that you end up behind the bars begging on your knees. I hate the way you stare at me, sadness in your eyes.

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I hate that when you come you bring with you grey skies. I hate that you get angry and you yell and scream and cry. I hate the way you glare at me, anger in your eyes, I hate that you remind me of nothing but grey skies. I loved the way we used to play, typical father and daughter. I loved you before you left me, like a lamb to the slaughter. I loved the way you doted on me, laughter in your eyes, I love you, I hate you, but you bring to me grey skies. Never got to see you, never got to hear you ever since that day. The glare of blue and red returns, my head is pounding, stomach turns.

Hate to say hello, because I know, that it really means goodbye.


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  • Past my bedtime, blue and red lights, Casting shadows on my face. Spraying gravel, emotions unravel As my eyes come across your face. Isabella Barber 11RH. She is like a tiger waiting to race Ella sports across the field. Ella has a lovely smile spreading across the stars like a constellation.

    She has a big heart filled with love and kindness. Ella is a flower softly blooming while she starts to flourish. British pavilion at Expo Burma pavilion.