Rachel Ronan (15)
“but they were just kids.”
ring around the rosie,
lips the color of posies,
ashes ashes, we all fall down.
passed her around the circle,
her screams became nonverbal,
ashes ashes, she fell down.
she put up a struggle,
felt the wrath of their knuckles,
ashes ashes, her world is going black.
hit her head on the concrete,
color of her blood looked so sweet,
ashes, ashes, she's not waking up.
dragged her body to the forest,
her corpse would see no florist,
she became ashes, ashes
ashes in the wind.
Rachel Ronan is a fifteen-year-old writer hailing from the suburbs of Long Island. She enjoys makeup, dogs, and laughing until her ribs ache. She runs an Instagram account featuring her writing, and you can find her at @aorticwalls. She hopes to be able to publish her own poetry book one day. Her personal style of writing is one that people would call haunting. Her goal is to make the reader feel something that is uncommon. You’ll rarely catch her creating a piece about love that doesn’t end in tragedy.
“but they were just kids.”
ring around the rosie,
lips the color of posies,
ashes ashes, we all fall down.
passed her around the circle,
her screams became nonverbal,
ashes ashes, she fell down.
she put up a struggle,
felt the wrath of their knuckles,
ashes ashes, her world is going black.
hit her head on the concrete,
color of her blood looked so sweet,
ashes, ashes, she's not waking up.
dragged her body to the forest,
her corpse would see no florist,
she became ashes, ashes
ashes in the wind.
Rachel Ronan is a fifteen-year-old writer hailing from the suburbs of Long Island. She enjoys makeup, dogs, and laughing until her ribs ache. She runs an Instagram account featuring her writing, and you can find her at @aorticwalls. She hopes to be able to publish her own poetry book one day. Her personal style of writing is one that people would call haunting. Her goal is to make the reader feel something that is uncommon. You’ll rarely catch her creating a piece about love that doesn’t end in tragedy.