The Buchtelite


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By Megan Parker, Copy Editor

Editor’s Note: The writer would like to clarify that the contents of this article were originally written several years ago for poetic purposes only. The following poem does not necessarily represent the thoughts, emotions or actions of the writer.

A flower in the snow, a flaw in the system. Struggling to stay alive, but have already lost the fight.

Falling to no end, it’s useless to scream. Smiling through everything, to gain pain from spite.

Dark colors collide, my moon-pale skin. Hides self-made secrets, like beauty’s poisoned lotus.

A stray cat flees, from signs of hope. My mood isn’t rare, just unfortunately unnoticed.

The signs storms show, my internal divergence. Music’s going to slow, never sounding the same.

Slowly losing interest, from an earthly place. Protect the silent destruction, and you become changed.

How can I find myself, when I was never whole. What kind of monster have I turned into now?

No one will dare come close, they have all given up. I am like a lone wolf, dying without a sound.

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About the Writer
Megan Parker, Copy Editor

Megan Parker is majoring in Media Studies with a minor in Public Relations at The University of Akron.
A six-time Best of SNO Award winner, her primary areas of coverage include campus news, accessibility/disability awareness and event previews. After graduating from UA, Megan plans to become a reporter for a small town newspaper before eventually becoming the Editor-in-Chief of her own publication.
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