Franklin Delano Roosevelt High School - Orbit Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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Refugees My sandcastles were washed away. Nothing left to do But bury my feet, Or try to grow A flower in the sand. The wanderer crossed the mountain And sat consciously in the sand Pulling pieces of the sandcastles From the crevices in my head. He was a refugee from the dark Lighting candles in the paths of friends He guided me back Across the mountain, Helping me if l should lose my balance Or my mind, or just a moment. We are refugees from the dark. But no one understands. They try to cram our heads With lies and nightmares. They lock us up, to help us to grow. They can only try. We are refugees from their world, Because we've begun to remember. Loretta Gallo 12

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Remember the night the sun shone, ' The sweet wine flowed in at Then flowed out With added thickness. It gushed in unison with the salted tears That burned the cuts Deeply bruised by the truth. You thought you were mad. I wished I could think. We searched for the door, Using our senses in great abundance But our minds sparingly. We felt our thoughts had to be saved Though not knowing for what. Then things started shining - Not a care in the world. Shrugging off problems with a laugh I wore a constant, continual smile That no one could turn off. The sun never left its place in the sky And the golden flutes followed me With their soft sweet sound. Loretta Gallo Depression's Savor Time after time, I hear myself repeating - Why is it always me? Give me a break-wretched pain, begone! vHowever, it remains and lingers on . . . , and on. Bad gets worse, iWorse becomes insufferable. What should Ido? From whom shall I seek salvation? Who can understand this situation . . . other than myself? Why is it always me? l've done no wrong. l've learned good from bad . . . so trheygtell me. But, what is good ? what is bad ? need of interpretation - I search to findthe truth. is always me? Good nature and pleasure . . . ah, such preposterous feelings! What do they get one? stepped on? . . Everybody's Bitches and My Memorable Moments It , into headaches? . , . hassles? I I yearn to findla believable truth. Why is it always me? Sometimes the walls feel as if they are, I 'caving in on me. t Creeping closer f ... and I closer together. at No hope here. ,Letthem . . . ll close. Why is it always me? Susan Katz