Julia Murray is a junior at Downingtown East High School in the suburbs of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She is a new writer, she plays softball, and she works at a bookshop (that she somehow manages to spend every paycheck at). Julia loves to read all genres, but her writing mainly consists of poetry, suspenseful mystery and fiction, and creative nonfiction.


Trigger Warning

The blanket of
A winter’s first snow-
The forsythias wept
At the weight above them.

Frost mustered itself into
Fierce winds,
Frigid thoughts,
Famished feelings.

Flowers, dried, browned, gone.
Animals, starved and slept.


I was faded.

My face, ghastly.
Once iridescent, now turned
Matted shades of grayish blues.
Tranquility, that was,

And bleak misery.

My frozen conscience foresaw
Its self-destruction,
Understanding that it must melt
At some point.

But knowing my luck,

Maybe the process wouldn’t
Be so clean cut.

Parts of me seemed
To live on a glacier,
Or a snowy mountaintop
Where it was always icy enough
To keep my chilled mind intact.

I’d be fortunate
If it did so much as thaw
Just a little bit
For the warmer months.

Maybe for my cold mind,
There was no self-destruction.

Maybe it was just there,
Part of me indefinitely.

In spite of that
I still hoped that I’d be rid of
My winter symptoms

When a thousand snowfalls
Puddled into nothingness,
And all of the forsythias
Rose again,
Brighter and bolder
Than they’d ever grown before,

The sun was insurance
To the forsythias’ rebirth.

But maybe I wouldn’t spring the same.

Nothing ensured my survival.

Nothing much, anyways.

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