I miss you.

I miss you

more than I missed my dad when he was deployed.

I miss you

from the second I open my eyes in the morning

to the second I close them at night.

I miss you

when I pour my milk into my Cheerios.

I miss you

when I cuff my too-long Hollister blue jeans.

I miss you

at one in the morning.

I miss you

while tears run down my face

and I hyperventilate

from an anxiety attack.

I miss you

when I look at that grey, fluffy blanket.

I miss you

more than I miss being five.

I miss you

on Christmas.

I miss you

while the scent of freshly baked bread

infests the house.

I miss you

in the chimney.

I miss you

on my lap.

I miss you

more than you know.

I miss you

when I run to the bathroom

to catch my tears

before anyone else sees.

I miss you

with all my heart.

I miss you

more than anything.

I miss you.

I do what people tell me to do

even if I don't want to.

They yell at me and order me around,

and I do what they say as my tired feet drag on the ground.

It wasn't my fault when my fish, Kim, died.

Or that time my ex best friend lied.

It's the governments fault my dad goes away,

and it's also their fault some people can't stay.

I'm just a human,

i'm not Harry S. Truman.

Sometimes I fall,

and for a while I can only crawl.

Eventually, I can pick myself up.

And no one even checks up,

because it doesn't matter how I am.

As long as everyone else has their program.

Maybe I'm half in control of my life,

I live in a house, not the wildlife.

I control who I am,

while everyone else makes me their crewman.

But that's okay, as I do not mind.

I will just be seen as kind. 

Poetry is a lot of different things to many different people. To some people, it's a way to describe a certain situation. Others may think it's just a form of writing. Another handful of people think it's a few lines of random words that rhyme. But those people are wrong. To me, poetry is a way to reflect, express, and let out any feelings about anything. It's to give life and meaning to simple words. It doesn't always have to rhyme. Yes, it is a form of writing, but it's also a form of art and sometimes even therapy. Poetry can calm you down or fire you up, but the best thing about it is that the writer is always in control. Poetry will always be there when no one else is.

Ugh there he is again, Mario. He sits in his kart, proudly accepting the first place medal for the fifth time this week. And then there's me, a nerd that nobody knows watching all eight racers from the sidelines. He steps out of his red kart and fixes his shiny, dark hair. Princess peach swoons and Luigi gives him a glare. At that moment, I wonder what's it like to be Mario. He has a complicated life- some people love him but some hate him too. On the inside he must be a decent human being, right? He does seem like the passive aggressive and cocky type, but that doesn't necessarily make him a bad person. After there wandering thoughts, I look up and I don't see him any where. Then an urge to use the restroom comes over me. As I'm about to enter the restroom, I see Mario facing the other way with some sort of paper in his hand. I lean to get a better view. 

"What the he-," I begin before I realize I'm speaking my mind. Is that the Super Mario Brother, Mario Mario, smoking after a race?! What do I do? I rush inside the bathroom and revaluate everything that just happened. I am a nobody. No one knows me, heck I don't even know myself. But this is bad... Do I help Mario or report him?

Just years ago, my dad was 7,709 miles away for 220 days ; and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to find hope in what felt like hopeless situation. My father is in the United States Navy. In the second grade, he went away for around 7 months to help out in a war in Afghanistan. I needed a distraction so I wasn't so lugubrious while he was away. Luckily, I found this aberration through hardwork and determination.

I didn’t let fear come between me and my passion, just like how a man from Great Britain, Itchou and Le Gleo found hope in a horrid situation in the short story Three Skeleton Key by Georges G Toudouze. These three men are trapped in a lighthouse because of a tragic boat accident involving many dangerous rats. When they were about to be killed by poisonous rats, they still found a way to make their situation a bit better by sticking together and working as a team. I was about to be killed by my negative thoughts, but just when I thought I was going to die from sadness, I was saved by dance. On the other hand, the trio of men were saved by their smart tactics and each other.

It’s the day I have say goodbye to my father. I watch him come out of the car say goodbye, and just walk away. Tears sting my eyes as my mom drives away. Goodbye father. Goodbye safety. Goodbye inspiration. Goodbye hope. Goodbye happiness.

Long days of worried mothers and sympathetic friends go by and I still feel scared. I knew I needed a distraction bit I didn’t know what it was. Whenever I was with my friends, I’d think of their lives and how perfect they are. Their dads are okay, their moms are happy, they are okay. My house, my life, and myself in general were all a jumbled up mess of emotions. How would anyone feel when their dad has a moderate chance of dying? Some nights, when I felt hopeless, I’d cry and cry until there were no tears left. I felt weak, in pain, and once again, hopeless.

After my dad had left, I was too upset to do any extracurricular activities. My mom decided to put me back in hip-hop dance classes. I didn’t want to, but I went along with it to make her happy. It was hardest for her after all. Just imagine the love of your life dying while helping a country.

Anyways, a few days later I had to go to dance. Luckily, I would get to see my old friends and teachers. I went and everyone cared about me. We had an easy class that day. All we did was stretch and then improved around the room, one at a time. Improv in hip-hop dance is when you make up the steps and choreography as you go along. When it was my turn, I was nervous. But my body took over my thoughts. My foot made contact with the matte, black floor as I danced around the room. My hair flew high into the cool air and the red and yellow lights hit the side of my face, practically blinding me. The music filled my ears, penetrating my eardrum. I could feel the bass and my smile was almost as big as the empire state building. My emotions translated into movement and for the first time in months I felt secure and maybe even happy. I wasn’t thinking about how much my life sucked. In fact, I was thinking about how much it didn’t suck. I had friends who cared about me, things I liked to do, and a family who was there to support me no matter what I chose. And to this day, they do.

I will never forget the joy I felt when I saw my dad. The best moment of my life occurred on a Wednesday after school. I was about to go home, but then I heard the speakers connected to the office call my name. So I went to the office and they told me to go outside again. I walk outside and I see really tall, muscular man. He looks at me and I realize something. That’s my dad. My dad is alive. My dad is right here in front of me. Tears flood my eyes and I run into his arms and he lifts me high into the hair. The longest pity party ever hosted is over. This internal war has ended. To be honest, it wasn’t that bad. I found hope through dance, just like a man from Britain, Le Gleo and Itchoua found hope through friendship and a plan. We all succeeded and got what we wanted. I learned to never give up because even in a tough scenario, there is hope. That hope may be hard to find, but one day you will find it. Now, it is my turn to take on the legacy and join the military for a bit of my life.