I am variety; pick a topic.
I do have a purpose, I simply haven’t unlocked it.
My personal statement is my heart and soul:
my tragedies and dreams, but most of all my goals.
I am a philanthropist, ready and always willing.
I have survived rape and seen many killings.
Being a senior at 16 is anything but easy,
striving to be unique and real without sounding cheesy.
I am not your expectation so liberate your thoughts.
“Never stop fighting” is my cream of the crop.
Witnessing racism and poverty enrages my mind,
therefore giving to another helps me unwind.
Making a difference is what I will do before my death.
I give it all that I’ve got until nothing is left.
I am my voice, so please don’t mock it.
My words can make some feel like they stuck their hand in a socket.
Journalism is my dream career and I will achieve it.
I’m planning to publish a book, so please go read it.
I am not perfect, nor do I pretend to be.
I can only have faith that it is enough to be me.
Adapting is simple, but I will not change for anyone.
My opinions, values, and morals will forever with me run.
As is visible in this statement, poetry is my flow.
Writing out my feelings has always helped me grow.
I have been through a lot of pain and have watched my patience rot,
so at times my pen and paper is all I’ve got.
I am unable to write you my life, but I can write you a story.
So hopefully if you ever see my face, you will witness the glory.
It was arctic one night when he poisoned my veins,
piercing my soul with his demented brain.
He touched me in places he was forbidden to touch,
while he ironically “loved” me a little too much.
I was put under more stress than any human should be forced to handle,
when my own father spit the fire off my candle.
I ran out of the house, not sure of where to go,
my mom in Miami, and my friends simply didn’t know.
Nightmares and flashbacks have haunted me since day one.
I thought it was over, but it wasn’t even close to done.
After an anxiety attack the day before Christmas,
I realized I had plentiful feelings to dismiss.
I told my mom the story and felt so guilty.
I was sorry for making her cry, but I no longer felt filthy.
She begged me to help her put him in jail,
but my unfortunate heart never fails.
He has two little boys who depend on him,
and since I know how it is to grow up fatherless,
taking him away from them would be a sin.
I don’t want to hurt him, and of course I forgive.
I kill hatred with benevolence to make it easier to live.
I am not afraid to cry, but I am afraid of love.
My life is a before and after story which I conceal in a glove.
It has been the hardest thing I’ve done, to keep moving on in color.
My smile is not the same, and many times I wish I were another.
However, I keep my head right and stay focused in school,
nothing will bring me down, and he certainly will not rule.
In a movie I once heard that if you have a dream go get it.
Don’t let anyone tell you no and you will never regret it.
I believe everything happens for a reason and obstacles are meant to be overcome.
My drive remains and my internal wounds are numb.
I am my voice, so please don’t mock it.
I am variety; pick a topic.