(Inspired by Langston Hughes)

The English teacher said,

Get along now and craft,
a page tonight (or a draft if you prefer).
But have it represent you,
and all of the things that you want to pursue.

I wonder if it's that effortless?
I am thirteen, white, a resident of Danvers.
I went to school at St. Mary's, Smith, then here-
to this school on Conant Street.
The winding stairs that lead out the doors,
down the sidewalk, and onto the grimy yellow bus.
Three stops to the top of the hill,
with a mustard yellow house perched atop it.
Up the convex stairs,
past the third door on your left.
Through the door plastered with Abercrombie models,
lays the hot pink couch where I rest and write this page:

It is not easy to tell what is right or wrong
at thirteen, the years I have.
I suppose I am what I are, and what I see-
I am me-Emily.
I am me- what I see--those two-- see and me, are both Emily.
I am Emily, are me--those two--me and Emily.
(I aren't always me) Emily--who?
Well, I like to run, cheer, draw and laugh.
I like the beach, track, soccer and my friends.
I like music, the mall, hanging out, and feeling free.
I'd like a pink laptop for a birthday present,
Or a back handspring would do.
Life for me is to join in the search,
or pursuit of happiness.
I know that people expect "amazing" from me at the least,
But what if I don't come up with a creative piece?


Being me, it is black or white.
There simply is no gray to be found.
It is win or lose, right or wrong,
High or low, good or bad.
There are no "okays" ties, or C's,
And that is me- Emily.
It doesn't always have to be this way,
Doing well everyday.
There can be missed shots, a crummy pass,
An awful game.
There can be a false start, an abominable throw,
A clumsy jump.
There can be a forgotten cheer, a shaky jump,
Even a wobbly arabesque.
There can be an atrocious painting, failed quiz,
Lost friend, or a bad week.
And that's all right with me.
It is not achievable to be flawless,
Or to live without error.
Being imperfect is not a crime,
Only human nature.
Being perfect (I say) is to do
What makes you happy, and make life worthwhile.
To achieve perfection,
You must not only strive for greatness;
But you must also accept your own imperfections.
A wise scholar once said,
"Man is not defined
by his ability to attain perfection,
but only by his relentless pursuit of it."
Perfection may be a B to your dismay,
Because greatness is the best, I say.

This is my paper for English A.