These feelings that torture me,
That rip and tear apart
Will NOT sway my demeanor,
But will never bother

to depart.

How to express when I see red
I don’t know how to start.
The puppet strings I hang from,

They’re all anchored to my heart.

My soul burns on,
But not bright like Bonaparte.
My mouth doesn’t speak my mind,

Only lies I wish to impart.

My eyes, they see my fear.
My words taste rather tart.
My lies will not save me now.

My sins, they begin to smart.

My heart
It will start

A part


Isiah Saez is a freshman chemical engineering major who also happens to have an interest
in the arts, such as singing, acting, and of course, writing. His hobbies include playing
video games, card games, and expressing large amounts of sarcasm.