Today i made a chair,
But the legs are nowhere to be found.

The cushion is if my favorite color,
The size is just right.
Between my body and the floor,
Beneath me is the chair.

The way it holds me so caring,
Bold in shape.

The angles have a modern twist,
Beautiful and graceful.

The chair was not my own,
Beginning it was hers.

The position was just right
The placement was shared
Today i lost a friend.

Boys take friends, sometimes
Boys make roommates move out
Beyond the comfort of - our chair -

The boat I'm in
My boat is one that makes you feel small.
One that you can easily hide in:
Small windows, while lots of sun makes it to the deck,
It’s shiny, and white, with bronze banisters.
If you look close, it's all a shade of aged green.
Cedar deck planks shine,
But floorboards below are cracking.
The meals and entertainment never fail to impress;
But the boat staff are ready to walk the plank.
Its motor tries it’s best,
With white sails, wrapped up tight,
dusty from lack of use, unfold into grey billows for backup.
Their thin cotton gets tired easily,
They often rip when the storms blow.

The boat I'm on only passes the beautiful islands,
Close enough to see, but too afraid of the shallow waters.
The boat I'm on passes pirates daily,
Hearing their threats, shouts and banter.
The boat I'm on passes cruise liners,
wishing one day it too could hold so many happy, relaxed people.
The boat I'm on wonders why guests don't stay longer
and come more often.

The boat I’m in is sick of only serving me.
The one who is stuck here aboard,
The one who is so bored of this sad boat;
Although it could show me the world,
It commonly finds itself in little blue lagoons.
Dark waters with low hanging trees
and thick reeds to get caught up on.
Occasionally  guests will take me out,
Out to crystal clear, blue waters of the wild ocean,
We enjoy the sunshine and the sounds of the sea.
But me and my boat always seem to float away.
Away from the beautiful blue waters,
closer and closer to the murky banks,
Think mud wanting to swallow the white edges of my smile,
And the sides of my boat.

I.
My parents worry about my brother,
he gained a lot of weight during middle school, and it isn't getting better.
Twins yet, nothing alike,
I have always been small, and honestly hope to stay that way.  
This is why I worry,
worry about my brother and his health and myself, my health.
I cannot help but think,
because we are twins, one-day will it happen to me?
I'll be fat.
Is there anything I can do? I must take control. I cannot turn into him.

Today at lunch,
I watched him eat two ice-creams, I had a salad and a milk.
No one notices.
At dinner mom took away the pizza after his 5th slice.
I had only one,
but I didn’t feel hungry enough to eat more than that.
They watch him,  
what and how much he eats and the exercise he gets.
But not me,
I can take care of myself, I know that I won't get fat.
I have control.



II.
They know I'm an immigrant, my English is rough
They don’t believe I'm from Jordan
"but, Jordan is in Africa, Africa is poor."
I used to love my gold bangles
Mom asked why I don’t wear them anymore,
They distract me in class, I say.
She seems so sad, although we are doing well.
Other immigrant girls wear cheap clothes
And watch me with hateful eyes.
My classmates make fun of them
For they are sad, poor immigrants.
       What am I?



III.
I came to America, for freedom
I came to America, daring to dream
I came to America, as an Islamic Idiom
I came to America, for enlightening education
I came to America, with bright beliefs
I came to America, it seemed simple
I came to America, to be called negative names
I came to America, to learn my label
I came to America, to find fear
I came to America, only to live lonely

I came to America, not as a terrorist
I came to America, seen as a terrorist
I came to America, to leave as a terrorist  



IV
They say it is the pastor's son you need to watch out for,
They have no idea
When I first felt it, I knew what they'd say, I knew I would struggle
You are going to hell
Now I have a secret, a fake identity. I CANNOT TELL ANYONE
I'm living in hell
Whatever happened to, all are a child of God?
I'm only a child
Whatever happened to, love thy neighbor?
Oh, if the neighbors knew.
Everyone else calls him father, and so do I
But not for long.
When I come out, I'll only have my god.
Father will disown me.
I may be Catholic, and I am defiantly gay
Am I loved?











V.
Nonna?
Yes, my tosors?
What is Predu-ou-jise?
Prejudice, she sighed.

Prejudice is when they won't hire your father, because of our name
Prejudice is when your brother cannot get into school
Prejudice is when the girls won't let you dance with them.

When I arrived, I could not work
When I arrived, I was to stay at home
When I arrived, I had to be married

Out in the world, I feared for my babies.
Out in the world, no one could work.
Out in the world, we face walls.

In my casa, I raised my babies.
In my casa, I worked and cleaned.
In my home, I kept up the walls.
  
Generazione,  
You'll live with Prejudice
Don't worry, you won't find it here.    

I am Nonna, you are bambino
Italiana live with love,
not Prejudice.  

      


VI.  
There are many reasons why people get sick, but I am different, I am a sick that you cannot see.
Depression feeds off me as I lay in bed, while Mom tries to feed eat breakfast
I can't, I am empty. Empty in a way food can't fill. I am only full of junk
  I have lost myself, again behind all the junk and  I'm not sure why
I thought I was doing well But in the end, I am still just broken
Depression causes Frsuteration Anxiety starts it all,  
All day and everyday I am less less of myself
Each drug, coping method, and session
But in the end, nothing can help me
They say a person has to want to change
I have wanted  change for so long, in every way
But every day I just wait until the shadows creep up
They creep up, **** me dry, dump my body for others to find
When people find me, they are shocked, can such a smart friendly girl
Be such a broken soul with so much pain, they wonder why I hide, yet they are the reason
VII.
First it was due to stress.
Then, the variabiles made me shake
They call the variales anxiety
They said that boys dont usualy have this problem
They said the anxiety caused this problem
They said the drug would help

First it was feeling far away
Then, they upped the dose.
They changed it once
They changed it twice
They said I was showing signs of improvment
They said I could get back in the game

First I felt better
Then I felt off
They said it was whatever was left over
They said I desrerve to be healthy
They said I’m not broke
They know it’s all in my head, literally
They said I’ll get my head back in the game

First off, I hate feeling like this
Then I look in the mirror and think
How selfish
How broken
How stupid
How weak

I have one of the better situations in the world;
I am a White, Middleclass Man,
I am getting scholarship to college.
I have no reason to complain as I do,
I am fed and housed
I am a privileged person
I have freedom to swim in
I have a supportive family

Why am I so unsure?
I am taken aghast by any change in pattern,
Will I ever be emotionally stable?
Are they ever going to look at me the same?
Will my team accept me again?
Am I going to make it to college?








VIII.
no one trusts me anymore
Why do you think that?
well, pretty sure its not cause im black
Okay, so what do you think causes people to not trust you
i dont know i just a reg guy tryin to make friends
Do they think you are trying to get something from them?
why would they think that?
Because you are an addict
right…
… and…
im trying to get better honestly
Possession?
yes
So how hard are you trying?
Tyrone says i need treatment
So do I
k, but youre supposed to say that,
Yep and you are supposed to trust people that you call friends
They say those things because they care about you
k, ill talk to dad again
Thankyou, love you <3
have a good night sis.