The gloomy sound of his beliefs.
The mellow whisper of autumn leaves.
The brief dribble of memories.

But the void is all he hears.

Spinning and spinning,
absorbing his soul,
falling apart,
but he can’t let go.

  Neža Mojškerc in Neža Tovšak, 4.a


The Wheel
They say the wheel keeps on spinning.
Numbers growing, with our hopes receding.

We’re living in our little bubbles,
ignorant toward eachothers troubles.

Being at the peak of our lives,
we never thought we’d slip through them at home.
In silence looking at our devices,
our minds louder – like they had a megaphone.

The clock is slowly ticking, yet we are dependent, point out a problem and they’ll get offended.

Perhaps a lot of money, and victim to a closed mind,
entertained by a problem not even philosophers could find.

                                                                           Katarina Lađić  & Aleksander Ramšak, 4.a



The sky of hope

I lay down on the ground to see the masterpiece we call the face of night.

The dark sky does not change from night to night, yet on this evening it amazes me once more.

The glorious stars have blessed me with their light one moment longer.

They fill me with emotion the rush of day lets me forget.

So insignificant I feel under the gleam ancient creations offer from above.

The darkness of the night threatens to take the soul of mine into its shadows.

The stars have seen a thousand dreamers just like me and thousands they have yet to see. But they watch over me and keep me safe – at least I think they do – and that’s enough.

I let a blaze of shooting stars fill me with hope, though well I know this feeling cannot last.

Hope – such fragile concept, made up by a man for himself only. To give his short-lived years on Earth a purpose. Something to hold on to, when nothing else is left. When darkness roams around the corners of his soul.

Despite fragility of this emotion, I let it fill my body with a well-known warmth – one that I by now have almost forgotten .

Almost. For you see – a foolish human is all I am.

Ula Perovec, 4.a



acrid tears and a morning headache

an open window to the horizon where the view of the universe gently brushes with the surface of the ocean

a sore throat that can luckily barely speak a word as the peacefulness can hardly be described

the waves of guilt crash with the cliffs of bad self-esteem

a peaceful spinster staring through the mirror blinded by the morning light

the seagulls in the distance are screaming: “you’re wasting your time”

Aja Fajmut, 4.a


Heavy thoughts

Lying on my bed overthinking,

feeling trapped in my head

and anxiety creeping in.

Opening and closing up,

the fear of getting burnt, yet again

by someone I deeply loved.


The end

 A piece from this madness we call Society,

the alluring thought of being free.

standing on a rooftop

deep in thoughts,

taking a step further and closing my eyes…

The way down is quick and painless

and all you can see in the end is the darkness,

since that is all what is left..

Neža Razbornik, 4.a



 The man is living, evil and deep.

But he has promises to keep.

Tormented with nightmares

he never sleeps.

Revenge is a promise

a man should keep.

 Matic Jordan, 4.a