"Ballad of the Heroes", "Free The Child", "Depression"

Ballad of the Heroes

(I wrote, memorized, and filmed myself reciting this for my HEROES unit in English.)

Our heroes need not be super, you would find them everyday.

Inside our homes or in the streets, they would help in any way.

Helping out whenever they can, looking for signs of trouble.

A flooding house, or a raging fire, they'd rescue, on the double.

Everyone can be a hero, not just those you see out there.

You don't have to, if you don't want to, just to be fair.

It needn't be saving people, just a favor you'd help them with.

For all you know, reality, never becomes a myth.

Never mind people who fly around in suits and fancy capes.

Normal people like you and I can only be just as great.

Our heroes can be very good, they would help those in need.

Hopefully they'd really help deprive us of our greed.

Free The Child

(This creative reflection was written after reading a small excerpt from OMELAS in class.)

As a citizen of Omelas, I choose to walk away.

Let us give the poor child freedom, discard our happy days.

Why must the unfortunate child suffer? It hasn't any health.

No clothes, no warmth, no sunlight, no home. Not a scrap of wealth.

I'd rather be one who walks away; to the child's life bring light.

I'd not want it to suffer, let its future be bright.

Why should I be happy when the child is in the cell?

I'd rather give it freedom, let my happiness be felled.

Is it not just a child, whom does not deserve treatment thus?

Let the child be freed, eliminate the fuss!

Depression

(Warning: This poem is only a fragment of my ever-expanding imagination. It is not true! It was inspired by one of the Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul books that I read.)

I am kept awake

Silence rips the awkward night

There is no-one here.

I switch on the light

Finding knives in the drawer

I pick out just one.

Blood seeps from my flesh

Yet I don't feel any pain

Relief floods through me.

'Nuther cut is made

There is a knock on my door

Now I am afraid.

I've been too stressed out

I show Mom what I've just done

Now my Mom looks scared.

"Stacy..." My mom says

I tell her I am depressed

She says she'll help me.

Seven years later

Happiness does hide my scars

They don't show themselves.

I am happy now

All the knives are kept away

I have no regrets.