Hello everyone!
I have another poem to share with you. I was originally going to do a post pondering the question “do we rise to the occasion when we have busier schedules?” but I didn’t really know how to answer that, considering that for me it honestly depends on what that “busier schedule” looks like and the mental headspace I’m in. I can still do that post in the future if anyone’s interested and I figure out how to approach it, but for now I figured I would tackle it as I tackle most things, by writing a poem.
My Plate
i divide my plate into sections, just like how mama taught me when i was young, how i needed to eat the rainbow and have a little bit of everything for each meal. she told me i needed to incorporate all the food groups, and to eat everything i was served. it would be rude not to.
i give slivers of myself away, not even realizing until i’m left with one tiny portion of the plate still filled. i twirl my fork and mash up the remainders of all the food that was once there. it’s not really a rainbow- it’s a brown pile of mush, and the texture is questionable.
no amount is too much for me. i load up on everything imaginable, everything available, whether i like it or not. it doesn’t really matter though, because i’ll give it away as soon as someone asks, only regretting it because of the sound my knife makes as i scrape it away.
all my utensils are still lined up perfectly on the table. sure, there’s a little brown mush on them, but who cares? certainly not me, as there’s no food left on my plate. they’re no use to me anyway.
I hope you enjoyed this poem. Thank you for all the support in my writing endeavors 🙂
Brooke
adventures of a typical high school student 