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An Empty Earth: From A Perspective
by Wendy K, Richmond Hill, Ontario, Canada, Age 15

Tears fall on the christening night,
under drops of moonlight that tear up the sky,
happiness floods a church as a couple kiss and start
their lovely lives.

But no dreams are dreamt that night from those tears are from,
far away where churches do not unites,
nor in a world where they do not exist,
because each and every tear shred by one
represents the heart of many that do not care.

But these tears represent more,
where moons of not exist to some, who lives a day,
they exist to others,
where lives are broken each and every morning,
where sunlight thrives on the happiness that is never there,
where it kills many that few are known to,
it lives to thrive.

A tear means more than the uniting of two,
because they come day and day,
from students that are not always the happy faces,
and are deeper than many will ever think to know,
from teens’ fucked-up parents that dearly think they know us,
that they know their innocent children’s identities and lives,
not knowing that the teachers rarely care, or never do,
because they earn the money and they earn the rep,
and it’s not their problem
when a night sky seems to be torn up,
into pieces by students that they’ve always kept a special place for,
inside their warm, beating hearts.

Until they stop.
Because all of them will.
We must face reality.
It’s not a perfect world.
It never was,
to the Hitlers of our world,
the Husseins,
the Bin Ladins,
and even possibly, the Bushes.
No one knows everything,
and no one will always be right.
Because everyone passes on,
some day.

No one
and nothing
is immortal.
Except tears.
A representation of everything.