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Poetry Individual
8th Grade
Benjamin Tasker Middle
Caitlyn Lopez
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SHIPS AND ANCHORS PT. 1
SHIPS AND ANCHORS PT. 2
People make anchors for themselves
They tie themselves to people and things in the world
Like a ship at sea, they pin themselves to the earth
They keep themselves held together
With the smallest, yet heaviest weight
They depend on it.
When you lose an anchor, you drift
You no longer withstand the tide
You are no longer independently dependent
The boat begins to drift into a storm
And that storm destroys the boat
And you, the captain? You sink.
Your world turns dark and dreary
You can’t see in color
You get stuck on this spiral staircase
Where the stairs are slanted and steep
And your legs hurt
But you have to keep going
Because that is all that you can do
You look around and everything looks the same
Not literally, no.
But the dog you just passed?
It has the same feeling as the pencil in your hand
Cold and grey and empty
There is nothing but lineart and grayscale
You can no longer see the shading
All you can see is the rough sketch
You know what things are supposed to be like
You know how they’re supposed to look
You know, you know, and that’s how you can act so easily.
Because you know
You used to experience it
You used to remember the feeling
They tie themselves to people and things in the world
Like a ship at sea, they pin themselves to the earth
They keep themselves held together
With the smallest, yet heaviest weight
They depend on it.
When you lose an anchor, you drift
You no longer withstand the tide
You are no longer independently dependent
The boat begins to drift into a storm
And that storm destroys the boat
And you, the captain? You sink.
Your world turns dark and dreary
You can’t see in color
You get stuck on this spiral staircase
Where the stairs are slanted and steep
And your legs hurt
But you have to keep going
Because that is all that you can do
You look around and everything looks the same
Not literally, no.
But the dog you just passed?
It has the same feeling as the pencil in your hand
Cold and grey and empty
There is nothing but lineart and grayscale
You can no longer see the shading
All you can see is the rough sketch
You know what things are supposed to be like
You know how they’re supposed to look
You know, you know, and that’s how you can act so easily.
Because you know
You used to experience it
You used to remember the feeling
And you are able to pretend to be your dead self.
Because even if you’re different, that’s who you once were.
The shell still holds an imprint
It can still be used as a mold
It won’t have the color or the looks of the original
But it will at least have the shape.
That’s better than a blob of nothingness.
You pour all that you have left into that imprint of yourself
Because you don’t want to disappoint the people around you.
You don’t want them to discover.
You don’t want their pity. You don’t want their sadness.
You. Don’t. Want it.
You convince yourself.
Your pain is worth nothing, you tell yourself
You know that there’s people who have it worse
You don’t allow yourself to cry
Because you think you’d just waste the tears.
There are kids dying of dehydration in Africa
Don’t waste your tears just because you’re sad
There are people who can’t afford to eat
Don’t doddle around forgetting to eat because you can’t stomach it.
Then, at the bottom of the ocean,
In the remains of the shell of you
You look at your hands
And you reach up.
You desperately reach for the last chance
You beg yourself to survive because you finally have the drive to live
And against all odds, you breach the surface
You breathe fresh air
Your lungs take and take and take
And you, for once, let them.
You hold on tight to the remains of your ship.
You keep yourself afloat.
Because you’re the only one who will never leave you.
Because even if you’re different, that’s who you once were.
The shell still holds an imprint
It can still be used as a mold
It won’t have the color or the looks of the original
But it will at least have the shape.
That’s better than a blob of nothingness.
You pour all that you have left into that imprint of yourself
Because you don’t want to disappoint the people around you.
You don’t want them to discover.
You don’t want their pity. You don’t want their sadness.
You. Don’t. Want it.
You convince yourself.
Your pain is worth nothing, you tell yourself
You know that there’s people who have it worse
You don’t allow yourself to cry
Because you think you’d just waste the tears.
There are kids dying of dehydration in Africa
Don’t waste your tears just because you’re sad
There are people who can’t afford to eat
Don’t doddle around forgetting to eat because you can’t stomach it.
Then, at the bottom of the ocean,
In the remains of the shell of you
You look at your hands
And you reach up.
You desperately reach for the last chance
You beg yourself to survive because you finally have the drive to live
And against all odds, you breach the surface
You breathe fresh air
Your lungs take and take and take
And you, for once, let them.
You hold on tight to the remains of your ship.
You keep yourself afloat.
Because you’re the only one who will never leave you.
1
SHIPS AND ANCHORS PT. 2
And you are able to pretend to be your dead self.
Because even if you’re different, that’s who you once were.
The shell still holds an imprint
It can still be used as a mold
It won’t have the color or the looks of the original
But it will at least have the shape.
That’s better than a blob of nothingness.
You pour all that you have left into that imprint of yourself
Because you don’t want to disappoint the people around you.
You don’t want them to discover.
You don’t want their pity. You don’t want their sadness.
You. Don’t. Want it.
You convince yourself.
Your pain is worth nothing, you tell yourself
You know that there’s people who have it worse
You don’t allow yourself to cry
Because you think you’d just waste the tears.
There are kids dying of dehydration in Africa
Don’t waste your tears just because you’re sad
There are people who can’t afford to eat
Don’t doddle around forgetting to eat because you can’t stomach it.
Then, at the bottom of the ocean,
In the remains of the shell of you
You look at your hands
And you reach up.
You desperately reach for the last chance
You beg yourself to survive because you finally have the drive to live
And against all odds, you breach the surface
You breathe fresh air
Your lungs take and take and take
And you, for once, let them.
You hold on tight to the remains of your ship.
You keep yourself afloat.
Because you’re the only one who will never leave you.
Because even if you’re different, that’s who you once were.
The shell still holds an imprint
It can still be used as a mold
It won’t have the color or the looks of the original
But it will at least have the shape.
That’s better than a blob of nothingness.
You pour all that you have left into that imprint of yourself
Because you don’t want to disappoint the people around you.
You don’t want them to discover.
You don’t want their pity. You don’t want their sadness.
You. Don’t. Want it.
You convince yourself.
Your pain is worth nothing, you tell yourself
You know that there’s people who have it worse
You don’t allow yourself to cry
Because you think you’d just waste the tears.
There are kids dying of dehydration in Africa
Don’t waste your tears just because you’re sad
There are people who can’t afford to eat
Don’t doddle around forgetting to eat because you can’t stomach it.
Then, at the bottom of the ocean,
In the remains of the shell of you
You look at your hands
And you reach up.
You desperately reach for the last chance
You beg yourself to survive because you finally have the drive to live
And against all odds, you breach the surface
You breathe fresh air
Your lungs take and take and take
And you, for once, let them.
You hold on tight to the remains of your ship.
You keep yourself afloat.
Because you’re the only one who will never leave you.
2
Blackout
I can’t.
I can’t.
I can’t think.
I can’t.
My mind is aching
And my brain is pounding
Yet it keeps running
And running
And its speeding past my limit
And the tires are screeching
Leaving trails of flame and scorched lines
Nothing is right,
Up is down and left is right,
Good is somehow bad,
Yet bad is justified.
All of my senses are jumbling
I’m tasting smells and hearing colors,
Like situational synesthesia
My tongue feels like cheese,
Melted and stuck.
My eyes are like pinballs,
Moving without control
Switching topics at every moment
Everything is going red
Because my eyes are moving so fast
That I see my own sockets
I can’t stay up,
My head is deciding to grow in weight
It feels like its a bowling ball,
Forcing its way to the ground.
My consciousness is fading,
Every sense is finally sorting right,
And suddenly,
I am out like a light.
My batteries are gone,
And my compartment is shut.
I can’t.
I can’t think.
I can’t.
My mind is aching
And my brain is pounding
Yet it keeps running
And running
And its speeding past my limit
And the tires are screeching
Leaving trails of flame and scorched lines
Nothing is right,
Up is down and left is right,
Good is somehow bad,
Yet bad is justified.
All of my senses are jumbling
I’m tasting smells and hearing colors,
Like situational synesthesia
My tongue feels like cheese,
Melted and stuck.
My eyes are like pinballs,
Moving without control
Switching topics at every moment
Everything is going red
Because my eyes are moving so fast
That I see my own sockets
I can’t stay up,
My head is deciding to grow in weight
It feels like its a bowling ball,
Forcing its way to the ground.
My consciousness is fading,
Every sense is finally sorting right,
And suddenly,
I am out like a light.
My batteries are gone,
And my compartment is shut.
3