Metamorphosis
Ouch, ouch, I open my eyes,
I feel as stiff as a board.
This is an unfamiliar environment.
Wait.
I'm a bookshelf!
Although I'm in different form,
I feel like myself.
I feel cluttered like a girl with a wardrobe malfunction.
I feel like I have a million things to say, a million different stories.
I feel as though I should be organized,
But, I am not.
I want people to be interested in the books on my shelf.
People to look at me and think,
¨That looks like a great book.¨
I feel the cold air as people brush by,
Ignoring all the meaningful books on my shelf.
Days go by,
Dust piles like the top of a fan.
I need someone to clean me!
When someone cleans me,
I feel new, like a brand new bookshelf.
I'm sitting in a silent room,
The books have a million words.
The words on the page are screaming.
Screaming with a million things to say.
I feel the loudest in the room,
Although no one can hear me;
No one will listen.
I wish others would hear me,
I wish others would listen.
I should lend a book to a friend.
We can share stories,
We can grow closer.
Maybe if I share the million words on the page,
They'll like me.
Maybe if I give them every book on my shelf,
We can be best friends.
We can bond over the simple things,
Things like hating the dust that sits uselessly on my useful books.
-Lillon Henline, freshman
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