Eight entries into a high school poetry competition, featuring works by eight unlikely students: Demyx, Seifer, Hayner, Roxas, Fuu, Rai, Larxene and Axel.

Author's note: This is something completely random and stupid. I'm suffering from a major lack of inspiration to write for the past few months. It's a shit feeling.

i. "Someone Else" – Demyx Aeco

You are oddly shy and ever so bashful as you reveal your true possession of a rare and beautiful talent—
One exquisite gift unmatched by any other as you trickle your nimble fingers over thin unkinked cords of twine,
Expression easy, vivid and spirited; so full of life.
You pluck, strum; hands flowing over harp-like strings, deliberately languid and lightning fast,
Making sweet, sweet music but not quite knowing how to in the slightest,
Only blindly following what you think is something like a heart beating slowly (but surely).
And you treat this creation of melodious harmony with throbbing revere and adoration and affection —
Multifaceted, mysterious emotions that you've never conjured up wistfully or pretended through longing desire.
You whisper quiet lyrics into the damp air of your lonely room in synchronization with your divine composition.
Whisper, only whisper, because you know they leer and jeer when you sing too loud;
Especially your contemptuously judgemental neighbours of eight and of ten.
You know not of golden praise, for you know this very place has none to offer.
But you don't ever mind their scantily masked attempts of disinterest and indifference.
Those honeyed layers of serene twanging sounds fill your delicate pink shell-like ears and all you can do is smile.
The world falls away at your music-making and you care for naught.
Swishing liquid bubbles,
Sprays of fresh coolness sprinkles against your face and skin.
And you laugh.
You laugh.
It is a sad sound.

… I may have known you once.
In some other lifetime.

ii. "Hyperion" – Seifer Almasy

The misguided knight shimmers
Under the darkness in no armour,
Faithful steel blade in hand.
The world cries for mercy,
But he gives none for he knows not
The art of giving such delights.
And he taunts and beckons for his glowering foe
To take the first swing, the first blow.
The knight blocks, he parries, he dodges, he sneers.
He whirls and he twirls and he jabs and he jeers.
The long tattered coat unfurls behind him like broken wings.

He stumbles,
Falls.
Blade clatters on stone and crashes and rings.
Rain comes down in sheets like translucent paper.
Lightning blazes across torrents of a black-ink crater.
He braces himself for the death to come.
The detonation and roar of rolling thunder drums.
And he hears no more,
Blade broken and shattered
Into nothing but a mere memory of existence.
No mercy, no mercy.
Now, he laughs wryly from the deepest depths of Hell.
Hyperion, hallowed Hyperion.
He is nothing but an empty shell.

iii. "Untitled, but dude, I don't care" – Hayner Elggurts

Roses are ugly,
Violets and glue.
Seifer is pretty stupid—
Wait, so is Rai!
So, let's make that two.

iv. "Them" – Roxas Strife

I know them all so very well,
For they've taken their places in my life so prominently.
So permanently.
He is effervescent and always quick to react with passion and aggression,
but it's a known fact that he never stays livid for very long.
He's always playing music at an ungodly pitch as he sings and dances,
and so I always know who to look for when I'm in desperate need of a song.
She is motherly and affectionate, sometimes irritatingly so,
at times believing that education comes first, scoffing at procrastination.
She is righteous and determined,
fondness and devotion rules her heart where friends are of concern.
He is at times lost to deeper and darker temptations,
but he pulls through with firm willpower; always.
He is undoubtedly naïve and innocent, but so full of life,
sparkling and gleaming like the purest of sunlight on cloudless days.
She is pale and beautiful,
like a fragile white lily that shines even in a void of darkness.
He's perpetually silent lest he bothers with words,
Shakespearean scripts and impossibly large tomes highlight the intellect of his geniusness.
He is always there to take your picture,
for his dad bought him the flashing contraption when he was ten.
He.
He is tall, with dashes of red here, green there.
He is—
something else.
A work of art.
A masterpiece.

Mine.

v. "RETARDS" – Fuujin Storm

I TAKE MY PLACE AS QUEEN
OF THE RETARDS.
THEY KNOW NOTHING,
EXCEPT TO FLEX SOLID MUSCLES,
SPEAK LIKE MORONS,
AND EAT DISGUSTING BACON.
I AM QUEEN.
ONE DAY THEY WILL SEE,
I AM QUEEN.
AND I WILL RULE OVER THEM FOREVER—
AND A DAY.

vi. "Tuesday's Bacon" – Raijin Wonkay

Every day
I have bacon for breakfast.
Bacon is illegally tasty.
But then this one particular Tuesday arrived,
and it was snowing.
I hate it when it snows.
It gets cold ya know?
My bacon was cold.
Like ice.
It tasted like junk, junk.
From her trunk.
Ya know?
I really hate snow.
But I still kind of like bacon.

vii. "That Guy" – Larxene M. Luxia

Touch back down,
Onto the ground.
It might be late,
'Cause you've made a mistake.
The rocket ship starts losing control,
You count to ten and brace for the fall.
It never comes and you're not dead.
You were saved by this dude in a red cape.

viii. "Haiku; That Boy" – Axel Onér

Golden tresses gleam
Iridescent pools of blue
Those divine lips, mine

Author's note: Demyx won first prize. 10,000 Munny.