There are ghosts
There are ghosts stuck between the stripes and the innocence beneath them they are filled
To the brim with ashes of a purple and yellow summer they are trapped
Next to broken doors and bandages and snowflakes in a box they are screaming
Can you hear them?
They are singing through mouths filled with salt water and glass
And yet the sound echoes
Sound of paint dripping down walls and plastic bags
Sound of red tights and black shirts
Sound of new beginnings
There are ghosts tucked between chlorine-splattered mattresses they are melting
Under the circles that pretend to be home they are smiling
Through tears made of dirt and hourglasses they are yours
They are your ghosts
They are your home.
Home.
Let me go home
Casper Cancelado '26
Icarus Took Over The World
Nox Nackman '27