Memories are unique. With every moment of happiness, sadness and unpleasantness we experience in life, we collect them in our little memory box. It is where the secrets stay hidden, where stress loses its sting and where unforgettable memories become a bottle of wine that lasts forever.

When we were children, our little memory boxes were pure. Full of satisfaction. However, as we grew up, deep inside our hearts, we start losing the real us. The box is like an unripe flower- growing, blossoming and withering. Slowly and helplessly.

Jill Li


Sun on my face
Fast running pace
Eyes filled with mace Clearly a chase
I ain’t no ace
I’ve run out of space Dead end case
My dope was lace-d
Run out of my base,
for this big mistake
This tops the cake
I’m met with death’s date There’ll be no trace
My life’s run it’s race
I’ll be put in a vase,
in an ash like state
I’ll be dying late
for those kids sad fate
I did initiate.

by Jayda

Save Me

My favorite people are fictional.

People who carry the world,

When no one else can.

The ones who risk everything,

To help the common man.

I look up to these heroes,

Men with metal arms

And astonishing bravery.

They help those in need,

Protecting the little man.

From the pages of my comic books,

To the Technicolour of my TV,

I support my heroes

In hope that, one day,

They’ll save me.


By Kaitlin Dyler (this poem will be published in Voices Visible in 2017)