I was born on July 8th.
That makes me a Cancer. I'm 5 foot 4, I weigh 120 pounds, I don't know how to play hockey. And I'm a sucker for a girl with a bright smile, big dreams, brains And a basketball. Not really. I'm still learning how to keep a straight face. I often laugh when no one's serious, and I'm often serious when others are laughing. I was born quiet and I have been the opposite of that ever since. I like writing A lot. I've been told that I give really tight hugs. People say it feels like I don't want to let them go. Sometimes it's because I don't. Secretly, I get sad every time Someone close to me has to leave Even if for a day. I have this odd fascination with things like Rhythm and Beats. I assume it's because I find myself dedicating time to things That I know will not change Or leave when I need them. That is why I am confused as to Why I tend to invest my hopes, dreams, and trust into things That will always leave me, Alone and sad, In the darkness. I know it sounds crazy, And it's a lot harder than it seems. To be honest, I hate it. You see, people, they often remind me that I am not afraid of timers Or darkness But I'm scared of who will have vanished When the lights turn back on. I'm clumsy- Yesterday I ran into my nightmares and fell on My confidence And shattered it Like my heart when my mom told me the truth. Now, I can't tell Who's trying to tell me "See you later" And who's trying to say goodbye. I've never been in the military, But I have this bronze star. I got it from hiding the light inside of me Until it rusted and went out. I know it sounds weird, But sometimes I wonder what my pen says about me when I'm gone. I wonder what the basketball would do If it found out about all the things I’ve done behind its back. I've got a trash can that is stuffed to the brim with Really, really dumb questions and thoughts. And a picture in my closet. I'm afraid if I let you see the man in the picture, Your questions will tear me apart like paper And you will shred me to pieces. Hi. My name is Kaiden. I enjoy Sprite, making jokes, And coming up with random ideas for stories. But I don't allow myself to smile as often as I need to. I have fragile confidence And a bright future. My hobbies include: -editing my newest book, -hiding behind smiles, and -trying to convince myself that I'm someone worth believing in. I don't know much, but I do know this- I know heaven is full of my late family members, The ones I know and the ones I didn't get to meet. I know God listens to my prayers and dreams on his Iphone X It reminds him that We still got lives to change.
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My Family is an Unspoken Promise.
The promise to myself, the one that reminds me That I will make them proud. They are the promise that drives me every day. My mom is the promise of a life of luxury. Every day, I watch as She works hard Works herself to exhaustion Just for us. I know she dreams of a day where She has no worries, Where she can sit down and just relax. I tell her every day that I will buy her a house- A big one. I want my mother to be able to stop working. I want her to be able to smile, to look at her multimillion-dollar mansion And laugh. My dad is the promise of fixed mistakes. Sometimes he tells me that If he could go back and make better decisions in his life, he would. He tells me how when he was a kid, no one asked him what he wanted To do when he grew up. If you were a doctor or a lawyer, that was good enough. That was why he went into accounting. Even though he makes good money, He sometimes wonders if he could've gotten a job so enjoyable That it isn't a job anymore. I want to do something that I love when I grow up. I want him to be able to live his dreams through me, To be able to see that his son didn't make the same mistakes he did. My sister is the promise of pushing myself to the limit. When I look into her eyes, I can see the innocence in them. I hear all the things that happen in the world, To African-Americans, to women, to people in general. I don't want her to have the same battle scars as my mom, or my auntie. I want to be able to still see the happiness in them, Not the wrinkles from countless frowns. I have to work hard, To be an example, To inspire her, To show her That it's okay to be strong, to want to be great in this terrible world. I want to show her that A small, dreaming kid Can become a big, accomplished adult No matter what stands in front of them. My Family is an Unspoken Promise. I will make you all proud. I will give you the life you deserve. I was born on July 8th.
That makes me a Cancer. I'm 5 foot 4, I weigh 113 pounds, I don't know how to play hockey. And I'm a sucker for a girl with a bright smile, big dreams, brains And a basketball. I want to be a billionaire when I grow up- I'm going to inspire a billion people. I'm still learning how to keep a straight face. I often laugh when no one's serious, and I'm often serious when others are laughing. I was born quiet and I have been the opposite of that ever since. I like writing A lot. I've been told that I give really tight hugs. People say it feels like I don't want to let them go. Sometimes it's because I don't. Secretly, I get sad every time Someone close to me has to leave Even if for a day. I have this odd fascination with things like Rhythm and Beats. I assume it's because I find myself dedicating time to things That I know will not change Or leave when I need them. That is why I am confused as to Why I tend to fall in love with things That will always leave me, Alone and sad, In the darkness. I know it sounds crazy, And it's a lot harder than it seems. To be honest, I hate it. You see, relationships, they often remind me that I am not afraid of timers Or darkness But I'm scared of who will have vanished When the lights turn back on. I'm clumsy- Yesterday I ran into my nightmares and fell on My confidence And shattered it Like my heart when my mom told me the truth. Now, I can't tell Who's trying to tell me "See you later" And who's trying to say goodbye. I've never been in the military, But I have this bronze star. I got it from hiding the light inside of me Until it rusted and went out. I know it sounds weird, But sometimes I wonder what my pencil says about me when I'm gone. I wonder what the basketball would do If it found out about all the things I’ve done behind its back. I've got a trash can that is stuffed to the brim with Really, really dumb questions and thoughts. And a picture in my closet. I'm afraid if I let you see the man in the picture, Your questions will tear into me like paper And you will shred me to pieces. Hi. My name is Kaiden. I enjoy Sprite, making jokes, And coming up with random ideas for stories. But I don't allow myself to smile as often as I need to. I have fragile confidence And a bright smile, My hobbies include: -editing my newest book, -hiding behind smiles, and -trying to convince myself that I'm someone believing in. I don't know much, but I do know this- I know heaven is full of my late family members, The ones I know and the ones I didn't get to meet. I know God listens to my prayers and dreams on his Iphone X It reminds him that We still got people to inspire. THE COUNTDOWN (3... 2.. 1)
Three... Times, my teacher called my name. Times, I did not answer. People crying: Bailey, Morgan, and Jaz. Stars appeared in my vision. People surrounded me: the paramedic, Ms. Brown, and Jaz. Times, Jaz breathed in my mouth. Times, the paramedic pressed on my heart. Times, my heart failed to beat. Words: “His heart stopped.” Two... Bodies: the shooter’s and mine. Lives, abruptly ended. Futures destroyed. Bullets: One for the shooter, and one for me. Pools of blood. Unbeating hearts. Stories that will never be told. One... Bullet. Unsuspecting child. Coffin. Gravestone. Family, left devastated. Out of 417 students- why me? Message: NO MORE SCHOOL SHOOTINGS! The Man on the Moon was a Silent Gravestone.
My father used to be a small town superhero. He reminded me of He’d grown up in the middle of nowhere, In a town of less than 200 people. Dad had told me that in his town, everyone had known each other. There wasn’t one person there who he had never met before. It was home to him, he’d said. There was a deep sadness in his eyes when he’d said it. I’d known that he missed his home. So asked him: Why did you leave? He’d smiled at me then. I had to. I was confused. Why? I asked. I met your mother, and I knew that I had to follow her to the city. Something told me that I had to spend the rest of my life with her, no matter where she went. I’d laughed. Really? He nodded. After that, he’d told tales of all of the crazy things that had happened in the small town, Like when aliens had made patterns in his neighbor’s crops, Or the tree that was bent sideways, Or the talking squirrel. But my favorite one was the story of the man on the moon. My dad had told me that when he was my age, he would look at the moon through the small telescope in his room. Every time he’d look, he would see a face, he’d said. The face of a man. The man would wink at him and whisper something, he’d said. My dad could never make out what he said, but he’d thought that it was three words. When he’d payed attention to the man’s lips, to make out what he’d said, My dad could only make out syllables. Four of them, he’d said. I’d stopped looking for him when I turned thirteen, thinking I was too grown up to waste my time on something so childish. To this day, he’d said, I can hear him whispering in my ear. I try to ignore him, but I can’t. Then the car accident had happened, and My father turned into a silent songbird. He could no longer talk, The doctors had told me. His vocal cords were damaged, they said. My father would never sing his sweet tunes of happiness again. I stayed with him every day after that. He’d been my only family. My father’s parents were long dead, And my mother had passed away shortly after I was born. I know it’s wrong to say, But I don’t miss her. You can’t miss what you never had. Instead of talking, My dad would draw pictures of the stories that he wanted to tell me. As he drew, I noticed each and every jagged scar that ran along his hairy arms. I wondered what story they told. His hands would shake as he recreated his memories, As if something invisible was trying to jiggle the light out of his body, Trying to turn his silent happiness Into eternal darkness. Every day, I would notice How his hands would shake a little more And how he would get this faraway look in his eyes, Like he wanted to be somewhere else. It kind of worried me. I cared for my old man, Silently praying That he would get better. After a couple of months, he stopped eating. Every time I would feed him, He would throw it back up. I suggested taking him to the doctor, but he shook his head. No. I knew something was wrong, But I would not find out what it was until the very next morning. When I went into his room for his regularly-scheduled feeding, I saw his bloody body, Lying on his king-sized bed. I saw the small pistol, The one his father had used to shoot the talking squirrel, Sitting next to him. It was glinting evilly in the faint light, As if it had known what it had done to its owner. I walked over to him, heartache threatening to take me over, And I rested my head on his bloody chest. I cried on top of him, Let all of the grief out. I cursed him, Prayed for him, Cried for him, Wished for him To come back. After I was done, I’d noticed the small yellow piece of paper on it. There were some words written on it in his handwriting. I’m Going Home. Three words. Four syllables. Bolting down the court,
Pounding the ball against the hardwood Calling out plays, telling my teammates where to be Speeding past my defenders With a well-timed crossover, Dropping them to the ground like an old teddy bear. The thought of losing is too much to bear, So I always give 150% on the court. I quicken my crossover, Dive for the ball as it rolls across the hardwood, Aggressively attack defenders And show them who and what they wish they could be. My dad always tells me to be Strong, like a grizzly bear. I am one of the best defenders On the whole court. I am solid and dependable like the hardwood On which I perform my effective crossover. I hate when I ask a tough question and the teacher does a crossover, Like they can't be Bothered. Does the hardwood Say it can't bear To be stepped on? Isn't that the point of a hoop court? Maybe I should sue her and hire legal defenders. Back to the subject. I'm a walking nightmare for defenders With my patented crossover And my steals that make my opponents want to take me to court Like LiAngelo Ball, whose dad loves to be All over the news, with his bear- Sized body. No wonder he was no good on the hardwood. Sometimes I act dense like hardwood To fool my defenders. Then I claw their ankles apart like a bear With my infamous Kyrie Irving crossover. It's impossible to be As quick as me on the court. I wonder how it would feel to be hardwood; I know that it would be impossible to bear my crossover And to watch defenders get dropped on the court. BECAUSE OF MY LOVE OF READING AND WRITING, I DECIDED TO WRITE A POEM COMPRISED OF THE TITLES OF VARIOUS BOOKS, INCLUDING SOME OF MY PERSONAL FAVORITES.
No Easy Way Out Not a Drop to Drink Hunger Ashes Powerless. We Were Liars, Monsters. Half Lost In The Darkest Minds. Lost In Elsewhere; Lost In The Sky on Fire. No Safety In Numbers. No Way Out. Save Yourself. Fallen In the Dead of Night. Darkness Be My Light, Fear Be My Monument. 14 Years, I was Lost In Exile. No Cure For Death. The Game of Lives Is Really a Nightmare. Pretenders Die. Queens Expelled from Royalty. The Skin I am In, An Impostor. Lost in the Wild, Humanity Gone Like the Wind. The Ruins Of The Nightmare City. After the End There is Nothing. Except for Eternal Madness. My Name is Not Easy. It is Gone. Be Better.
Long after everyone in this room is long gone And our descendants roam, There will still be WarsTerroristsRapistsRacistsAbusersDrugDealersGangMembers BombsGunsKnivesSuicideHurtHateFightsBloodTears ConcentrationCampsFrownsDeathLonelinessHeartbreakFear HopelessFantasiesNothingnessAbortionFraudsCowardsLiarsThieves FightersTyrantsMissilesSecretsNightmares And so much Pain. So, so much. That is why, Once everyone's fate is in your hands, You must all work together. When everything seems dark, Our leaders will brighten it. There will be no more wars, Because we will all live in harmony. There will be no murder, Except for that of all things evil. There will be no tyrants, As everyone will be ruled Wisely And with Love. Life will be amazing For everyone's Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great (Okay, I'll stop now) Grandchildren Because the world will be a lot more peaceful Because all of the bad things will be gone. That is why You must keep the peace. I don't care what North Korea said, Or France's Threats, Or the United States's cockiness. You must coexist. Because if you don't, Nothing will exist. When I reach my goals, I will say "Thank you" instead of "It's about time,"
Because futures aren't supposed to happen, they are worked for Through blood, sweat, tears, or whatever else you can give To reach your hopes and dreams. I am going to write every day, So that if I am ever questioning my future, I can remember the pencil and paper that are the keys to it. And I will learn That futures are like broken mirrors In the way that Sometimes you have to put pieces That you wouldn't think fit together Into one to assemble everything you have ever wished for. In everyone's future, there is an unknown. The future is a question mark, But many want a period. They want to know what it is that their life will become: What they will do, When they will do it, And why. Why is the biggest three-letter word in the history of words. It is the thing that gives you purpose. The thing that drives you to discover, To ask questions, To understand. And most of the time, the future will bring you sadness. It will bring you a river of tears, or a volcano of nightmares. And sometimes, there is no reset button. Sometimes, your future cannot be fixed, only continued. But when that happens, When you feel like there are no blessings in the unknown, Remember. Remember that no one can control their whole future. The future is a fog That no person can grasp. You can only experience it. The future holds so many things, Smiles, Laughs, Frowns, Tears, And so much more. But that is the beauty of it. The future is a puzzle that can only be solved with Hard work and experience. Everyone's future consists of so many things, Whether it is the fractured hopes, Millions of dollars, Dark dreams, Radiant smiles, Ripped-up love letters, Happy thoughts, Crazy schemes, And The excitement that is The nameless. If I should have a future, I will embrace Everything That comes with Becoming the man I am meant to be. Dear Future Confusion,
I know sometimes life is hard to understand, But please do your best, Because I say "I'm confused" at least five times a day And sometimes, I get tired of it. You give birth to Fright And fright Is not something that I can let control me. Fright is the thing That scares the sun away from shining Fright is the thing That chases electricity Away from its goal of flowing. Fright is the thing That makes hope Stop hoping. I'm sorry, Confusion, That I call on you so much. You are not to be used all the time, Only when I really have tried every key, every code, every password, And yet the door will not unlock. Sometimes you are the thing that keeps me afloat And a teacher can come save me from the depths of red marks And bad grades. Other times, You are the depths, And perseverance and insightful questions are the things that pull me away. And I'm sorry, confusion, But I cannot let myself call on you so much For all of my problems. You are the parent of blame, And blame is the knife That severs the web of friendship. Blame is the tide That washes away the sturdiness of understanding. Confusion, you can't be the bell I ring To explain my troubles. "I'm confused" Has to turn into "I need help." Because if I don't change the dialogue, I can never grow or change The same way a plant Cannot flourish Without light. And sometimes I drown in you, Confusion. That is why we were never destined to be. Good luck to you on your future endeavors, But now I have Dedication and Inquiry On my side. Peace! See You Never, Kaiden "Not Confused" Thomas |
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AuthorKaiden Thomas
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March 2019
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