The Panopticon

March 17, 2009
By Kathryn.L BRONZE, Boca Raton, Florida
Kathryn.L BRONZE, Boca Raton, Florida
4 articles 1 photo 7 comments

They spend all their time watching
Even in an empty room, I feel the welts on my skin
From the burn of their eyes
And the singe of their whispers

They say that I'm smart
An expert in studies
Little do they know how stupid I feel in the rules of their world
Unknowledgeable in their games and schemes

They say that because I'm a 'dork' I trip over my own shoelaces
Unable to stand tall as I walk
Little do they know that I can dance and I can sing
and do it all in my own rhythm

I'm sick of their words, their rules
Falling and never landing

Hitting the ground a hundred times over
Screaming at the top of my lungs
Never making a sound

Sick of their endless whispers
Twisting and turning; a cyclone that suffocates me
Silently feeding off my pain

I'm done
It's over

Calm the wind, end the rumors

It's over
I'm done

I am me and not who they see
Let the Panopticon crumble
And I'll create my own identity


The author's comments:
I wrote this poem as my way of combating stereotypes, especially that of the nerd (my own classification).

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This article has 2 comments.


sup01 said...
on Apr. 21 2009 at 1:51 am
great job completly understand and i no i spelled completely wrong

on Mar. 29 2009 at 4:03 pm
Kathryn.L BRONZE, Boca Raton, Florida
4 articles 1 photo 7 comments
I forgot to mention the background info about the panopticon. It was a prison designed so that the watchman could see the prisoners at any time, but the could never see him, so the prisoners behaved as if they were always being watched.


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