Talking to the stone
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Alistair Taylor, Grade 8
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Poetry
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2004
Mum… why does no one like me at school?
Why at lunch does no one want to sit with me?
I feel like a cactus in a vast desert.
Hardly anyone notices me
And if they do, they pay no attention
Not one kid wants to talk to me
Why would they? Look at me
Look at my scrawny knees, my old tattered clothes.
All the cool guys call me a loser
And then they snigger, and walk off to find another victim
Nobody cares about what's on the inside,
No matter how much Dad says they should.
Dad's really struggling without you now
But he still scrapes all his money together to buy me more paints
He says I remind him of you.
Is there a reason why people think differently?
Why don't we all just think the same?
There'd be no arguments then, right?
Everyone would agree!
Wouldn't it be great?
Look out at the sea, mum.
The water doesn't agree with the rocks
It sends waves out to attack them
They pound against the stones everyday
Leaving salty spit as the only remnants of the battle
But when you're relentlessly pounded
You're slowly ground down until there's nothing left
Don't you mum? It happened to you.
That's why you're buried now
And I'm left talking to a stone.
A block reminding us of your abruptly ended life.