This poem was written from the perspective of a middle-schooler, seeking to fit-in and find his/her way through life. One can enjoy it vicariously (via the imagination of the author) or nostalgically (via the memory of the reader).
A new day with new possibilities.
Mom says,
“True freedom comes with responsibilities.”
My superhero alarm clock
Double-dares me to suit-up
For PE’s mile hike
Up life’s strange coming-of-age,
A call to braces, acne, and puberty.
I dye my hair to show you
I bleed the same color blue.
Have you ever noticed
I’ve given everything to be like you?
A flocked but fake Christmas tree.
I’m left with a compulsive question
Like salt that sticks to skin:
If I’m being someone else,
Then who’s being me?
“Fitting-in” is a primal instinct
Like a homie rollin’ with his crew,
A wolf running in a pack.
I feel invisible—
A faceless individual—
When I get skipped to play
On a team with friends
I pray to make,
During a short school break
Of popularity called “snack.”
Teasing is pheromones releasing;
A first crush is love’s pleasing.
Metallic butterflies descend
Into an acidic pool of anxious energy,
Surviving oral presentations
And strange hormonal sensations
That fizz-up inside me,
A dialectical synergy.
Fear of being accepted or rejected
Is a three-ton Charizard
I’m forced to battle
On a blacktop of nervous knees
And wrappers of string cheese.
Like an earthworm,
Inching its way home,
I wear secondhand clothes
And walk down a lonely road
With a well-worn skateboard
While the “cool kids” pass me
On their brand-new E-Bikes and hoverboards.
This absurd rite-of-passage
Welcomes all blood types and donors.
Can you guess my name?
I wear a costumeless disguise
With eyes that only look down,
Searching for friendly ground,
Afraid of being laughed at
And labeled a loner.
If only you could know the real me
And how deeply I feel the things inside me,
Especially when I’m misunderstood,
Wanting desperately to be heard,
So you can see all of me
From top-to-bottom
Where Acceptance looks
At what I am
And Potential looks
At what I could,
Not judging me
For what I should.
For real,
Is this the best life has to offer?
When all I can see
Is everyone else
Getting more “hearts” than me on TikTok,
I can’t help be a scoffer.
At home,
Waiting for the phone to ring,
In an ant-infested room
With a hole in my sock.
I used to smile
But now I wear a mask,
Feeling more isolated
Than when my “friends”
Talk behind my back.
I hold-on with a faint hope
That one day I’ll know
What it’s like to be on top—
A bird flying free
In a sky of limitless possibility.
“The more it hurts,
The more I don’t care,”
I say with a guarded heart
Behind a bullet-proof vest of despair.
Let’s be real,
My vital organs are exposed,
Hiding behind a torn Sublime T-shirt,
Hoping for the next person that walks by
To hold me with a Mona Lisa smile
And Cleopatra eyes.