Kate Nicoll

School: Amity Region
Grade: Senior baby!
1st year at YWI
I like many things about YWI. Firstly, the people here are wonderful. I love the mix of races, backgrounds and religions, It’s extremely refreshing. I have learned to accept all styles of writing and thinking. I will always keep these memories from YWI close to my heart.

1941

One, two, three

The advancement of the black-boot-soldier

His feet pounding as his heart flutters

Thinking to himself-

the excitement swelling up his insides, suppressed breath, quivering lungs.

How wonderful it is to help my country of the bloody, bloody red, pale-skin white and blue-eyed blue.

How proud it is to condemn those trying disease our pale society,

he thinks, as he opens red blossoms in his hands covering the lines that are him.

Dark must be an infection

and it is spreading.

Piles of flesh sacks fill a clump of once living, loving people.

He knows, he thinks, that this will stop the disease.

And synagogues will be replaced with roman white pillar churches.

He dreams this, he loves this as he basks in the deterioration of the disease.

The End of Art

He steals words and

eats them.

A rapid, swallowing, motion.

The language he disregards as he fills

the words with his own

bubbled saliva.

The dialect sound travels through his system-

as he controls the big system,

the one that makes up a country of what some say freedom.

These words that describe so much

are digested further into him each day.

The creativity being

swallowed.

This leaves us, our country, with nothing-

but simpletons, wasteful things.

And we live in a junkyard full of uselessness - digested words.

You are lost in our own system

and your words

slowly

eaten.