wood carving

i'm nothing.

i'm nothing but

petrified wood

nothing more

than a hardened rock

sitting in a grove of

others just like me

pointless and worthless.

so i carve out arms

hips

legs

head

shoulders

feet and hands

and i stand.

my worth becomes clear.

my point is to help.

i make more petrified wood

become like i have

a beacon in a dark forest

of confusion.

this is what

being a teenager

is.

This poem is about: 
Me

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