I am standing at the three
front doors of Webster Middle,
I noticed eighth graders larger than myself
standing on top of broken crumbling stone
many have walked on before me
gum spit out and forgotten about
under my strappy sandals I
see my friends as we stampede
into the overly crowded doors, 
Standing at locker A124,
new school supplies overflowing from
the five foot green locker that is mine.
The teachers standing in front of their
colorful and welcoming decorated doors,
waving and waiting, eager to know us.
I am about to meet friends,
I am about to meet enemies, 
I am young,I am nieve,I don't know me,
Unsure, I am not expecting what is to come.
I need to go back and say: be yourself,
don’t care what they say.