Winner of Our YA Early Winter Writing Contest!
Shaunah S. (Here are the poems)

“Perfect” Little Person

Sit here,
Stand there,
They raise their voice and their hands
To make me into the “perfect” little person.

But what if the “perfect” little person
Is not the same in my eyes.
What if the “perfect” little person
Has bumps in the road and scrapes on their knees. 

What if the “perfect” little person
Messes up a few times.
But that should be okay
Because we are not robots.

We are not built on assembly lines.
Mad with the same “perfect” little pieces
For every “perfect” little person
Built to “perfection”.

People always say we are not robots
Even teachers preach
“We are all different!”
But then expect the same end product from all students

What is the point of wasting your breath preaching this lie?
Preaching that we are all different
And then expecting us to all be
That “perfect” little person...

My Garden

My heart is a desert
It wasn’t always this way…
It used to be a beautiful garden!
That had life and variety. 

I let him into my garden
He came and tended to my garden.
Until one day…
He came and stomped all over my garden!

Pulling out the flowers
And leaving the weeds
Taking all the good memories
And leaving me with the bad ones

He ruined my garden.
I have no more pretty flowers.
Nothing to give
To those who visit.

Please give me back my precious garden…

The Edge

I stand here
On the mental cliff that is my breaking point
I feel you pushing me towards it along with others
I fight to stay on top of the cliff

But you’re much stronger and push much harder…
I eventually fall.
I fall into the river of despair and disappointment.
For I have no more motivation. 

Why should I continue fighting just to be pushed over the cliff?
Why must I continue fighting when others around me just walk away from the edge?
Why do others not have to fight away from the edge?
I don’t want to fight from the edge anymore.

When is someone going to pull me from this edge?
Pull me from my fighting.
When will I earn my peace?