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CommUNITY
(A Collaborative Poem Written by the Scholars of Community High School)
They said I was nothing
and for a hot second, I believed them.
Would it be treason to say I agreed with them?
I wasn’t alone. They got to the roots of my family tree.
They spat at our feet and talked down on us
like we’re a herd of sheep.
I don’t want to feel weak
but this life has left me feeble
Not the same as I used to be;
hoping to fade away
while rolling some tree.
They said I was nothing again
but that second got cold,
and I started to get bold.
Don’t listen to those you can’t trust.
Life isn’t about busting slugs
it’s more about failure than success;
either your life’s clean, or it’s a mess.
Failure is not easily defined
unless you look for it like a thin line.
Success is easily defined;
once you start, you keep going like a zip line.
I denied my success
because they thought I was nothing . . .
While they party, I study.
While they travel, I work.
From nothing, to up-and-coming,
I am the one.
One day you said
I was somebody and
knocked the dust off my smile
at least for a little while.
After the cold hour I deceived them.
They confuse desperation for initiation.
Just negativity, so I leave ‘em
Want to pick up the twenty-twos so I can squeeze ‘em.
Instead, I pray for ‘em.
In my own weather, let me brainstorm.
We’re all different but hate in the same form.
2.3.4.5 seconds later why believe them?
Their words mean squat
nothing more than a whim
Thank God I’m unique,
they’re as common as Jim
I still falter because it feels better to give in.
But then I remember if it’s not keeping me up at night,
then what’s the point?
As the valves open
I can feel the explosions
as I speed down this street.
I pray for traction I can keep
and if I slip and desire to slide,
I pray to the Lord my soul to keep.
They said all I have is my face
but I care about my brain.
Not everyone is perfect,
but at least I’m not the same.
The next day you said
I was more than
some body
and I know you are the truth.
Looked in the mirror and saw my reflection:
I’m something, not a nothing.
Just straight stunting
Might be bumpy, but not so lumpy.
I’m on the ride until we die.
I stayed to myself and overachieved.
Never was a hater, I like to see everybody eat.
If you’re riding with me,
we’re all balling Fam, my treat.
My head held high
I’m looking at Mars in space
where I see those stars looking back at me.
I taught myself I’m not the opinion of others.
I am my own definition of intelligent,
my own definition of good enough.
I told myself I’d prove them wrong
and on Graduation Day, they will be wrong.
I’m trying to make my family happy
so I can go to heaven.
I’m never stressing
I just love to receive blessings.
Now I know I am everything;
the beginning during the end
and so are you, my friend.

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Each student in my class was asked to be creative and create one stanza for a poem. My amazing English teacher combined all of the students’ work and made it into one collaborative poem. I found this really interesting. I love to see how each student was thinking when writing and I love the ideas my classmates came up with.
My stanza is:
Don’t listen to those you can’t trust.
Life isn’t about busting slugs
it’s more about failure than success;
either your life’s clean,
or it’s a mess.
Failure is not easily defined
unless you look for it like a thin line.
Success is easily defined;
once you start,
you keep going like a zip line.
I was unfortunately struggling with drug addiction during the creation of my stanza and the poem. I was struggling to get clean, and stay clean. I also had family and house problems. These terrible situations actually made me create a unique piece of work. Writing calms my nerves. It always has.
I learned many things from this assignment. First, I learned what a stanza is. Also, I didn’t know that I was good at poems before this. I’d like to give a special thanks to my teacher, Mrs. Sowinski, for teaching us writing skills like poems and M.L.A. format. I wouldn’t be here without her. Most importantly, I feel proud that my stanza was selected to become a part of the final poem.