May 2003
French articles
arts and expressions
about SNN
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5 years going on 100
By Kathleen D., Grade nine, Fredericton High, Fredericton, NB

Being five has its gifts.
So alive, you never drift.
The pain that slams its fist on me,
is no match for my immortality.

I pass the hurt into emptiness,
and hang on to my happiness.
Yet, I am slowly aged with fear,
as I stare into the mirror,
the sky is drained from my eyes,
filled with ice, they begin to cry.

My skin is weakened by lies,
as my immortal spirit begins to die.
I lie buried in myself,
crying out loud to my youth for help.

We are only young for so long,
until we give the sense we don't belong.
When your 100 things tear at you, no longer strong,
and suddenly your childhood fantasies for peace seem so wrong.

But memories of youth,
can keep you alive forever.
As I continue to laugh at the truth,
my child spirit's silence is never.


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