Is My Life an Illusion? Because My Glasses Just Broke

Today 

for once

I spoke up in class.

And instead of 

listening

and respecting my views,

they told me

that's a creative thought!

But now,

think longer

make it better.

I have been told to think outside 

of one box

and into another.

The cycle is never ending.

Today,

my creativity is measured on a scale 

from one to infinity

because they say there is no limit;

but once you hit the 

barrier they created

then something is wrong.

And you must be fixed.

See I am me because 

of my ability to share

my thoughts and reasons 

But I am told

they need to be more creative

than the ones of my sister,

of my friends,

of another cookie cutter high school student.

Because,

everyone is going to see that 

in the passage we read.

Everyone is going to put that

in their essay. 

And you need to stand out.

But my thoughts when taken

and placed in a careful order,

rehearsed for the crowds who will

come on opening night to see the act titled:

"Promising high school student

with a future career"

A part of me is stolen. 

We know the famous saying,

I think therefore I am.

But what am I?

Without my creativity I am nothing.

Just barely more than a top song 

played on repeat until we get bored

and move on to another. 

I can't live without thinking 

for myself because without my original 

thoughts I am just 

another puppet.

And the world is beginning to look a lot 

like a marionette show;

with the master bellowing 

THINK.

But I do not think 

in the correct definition

of the word.

If the box exists

I refuse to see it,

and that really bugs them. 

It gets under their skin

they begin to feel like the leeches they are

as they drain us 

of our individuality. 

Which, by the way,

they rewrote the definition for.

All the way back when we 

started school

when they lined us up, 

but told us to be different.

Tied our hair the same way,

but gave us individual names.

Names we carried into high school.

Names we spent the rest of our lives

trying to escape.

And there's a problem

when you're trying to escape yourself.

Because maybe you're not

breaking away from who you are

but trying to ignite your own emacipation.

The goal anymore

has become all about control.

And when did creativity 

equate to likes or follows?

It's all about approval because

that's how we were conditioned

to 

be 

better

than the rest.

But in these endeavors

how much have we lost?

Are the thoughts in this poem mine?

Or just another shining example 

for them to display

with a golden plaque and 

my ascribed name 

"creativity".

I refuse to be shoved

into the box

and spend the rest of my life

thinking I'm getting out of it. 

Like an animal in the zoo

thinks the painted trees on the walls

are a forest.

They know better.

They know we watch them.

And I feel as if I am constantly observed 

that they fed me anecdotes

and tell everyone:

"Gather around!"

"Watch this!"

This is how a high school student 

should think. 

It's not.

Think the way you want to 

and know what you believe in 

because they will try to tell you 

that it's not enough. 

But all they're doing is 

forming you into another 

definition, my word, 

they are quite the neologists!

As I grow 

and I realize

I learn that what I can't live without 

is knowing who I am. 

Because if you do not have a firm standing 

in the beliefs which fuel 

the fire in your heart,

then you are not living. 

You're just another body.

I want to see you walk through 

the doors of the building 

that houses the people

who used to tell you to think better

and leave scorch marks on the carpet. 

To remind them that

you have a fire

that their definitions 

and improvement classes

cannot unspark. 

The ability to think 

for myself

is what keeps me 

from becoming another puppet. 

Today in class 

I spoke up.

I read a poem. 

About 

elementary school and golden plaques.

About society 

and the zoo it's become. 

And for once 

no one said a word. 

For once

they listened. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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