Thursday, March 13, 2008

Writers Autobiography

As I sit here surrounded by sheets of called up paper I wonder how writing a simple essay could possibly be this difficult. I've been sitting here for almost an hour and a half now writing beginnings to essays, realizing how bad they sound, crumpling them up, and starting over. I seem to get stuck in this cycle just about every time I attempt to write. 
I'm usually not too picky about my school work. I generally just get it done and hand it in without thinking twice. Writing, however, has always been particularly difficult for me. 
In math and science you get the answer right or wrong and there's only one way to do it. with writing, everybody has their own style and opinions on it. A poem which  may sound astounding to one person may sound dull and boring to another. 
The lack of clarity makes it extremely difficult for me to be satisfied with my writing. In fact, my need for perfection actually brings down my quality of writing. I spend so much time discarding various ok-sounding essays that I run out of time and end up turning in a less-than-decent version of one I had thrown away.

Minority Poem

The children laugh
The children play
They run around
On this gorgeous day

They have no cares
Because they are free
Free to run
They're not like me

I sit here
Because my legs cant move
I watch them play
I watch them move

I wish that I 
could be like them
But instead I stay here
??Wishing I were a gem??

Ballad

Hiding in the classroom
Thinking of his plan
His anger overflowing
Their lives so close at hand

Merely sitting with her daughter
Teaching her to read
She's the perfect target
How he longs to make her bleed

He stands up in the classroom
Clinging to his gun
Pointed at her head
As everybody runs

Raising up the shot gun
Sounding like a bomb
Just then her little girl steps in
Yelling "Don't hurt my mom"

Dodging past the woman
The bullet hits the girl
Falling to the ground
The room starts to whirl

Horror arose his face
As he realized his mistake
As wrong girl lay on the floor
A life too precious he did take