Megan's+Poetry+Page

//Megan's Poetry Page //

__ I AM __ //Megan Chiappetta, sixteen years old// //I am determined, my words are bold// //My hands are always freezing,// //But my temper could burn holes.//

//There’s more to me than meets the eye,// //Although I’d never show it, my eyes do cry.//

//I move to the beat of my own drum// //I can sing without music, dance without a beat// //I hate having shoes on my size six feet.//

//Secret secrets don’t make friends,// //And I’ll protect mine till the very end.//

//Hugs are my favorite, big- not small// //If it was possible, I’d take care of us all.// //Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew,// //I’m a problem solver; it’s what I like to do,// //And if you ever need me, I’ll help with yours too.//

//The ocean is my safe place, my home away from home,// //I love the way the waves hit, spraying me with foam.//

//My hands soar through the air with every point I make,// //I cherish my friends and family, and every breath I take.//

//On occasion I find my mouth is connected directly through my brain,// //When you cook a cookie in the microwave, it goes directly down the drain.//

//If I want really want something, I never fear the fight.// //Meet me at the football game, every Friday night.// //Snapping all my pictures, in plain Jane black and white.//

//I may work hard, but I play harder still.// //My pappy is my hero, make him proud I will.//

//Wrapped in my boyfriend’s hoodie, content as can be.// //Wrestling in the living room, out-numbered one to three.//

//I waitress at Athen’s, but I’m still getting the feel.// //I love sitting down to a delicious home cooked meal.//

//The trees are so pretty, as we approach fall.// //Which means it’s about time for some Monday night football.//

//I may live in America, the land of the free.// //But I also carry parts of Poland and Italy with me.//

**//__I am a Degenerate…__//** //I am a degenerate,// //Fourth generation ** Italian- American. **// //Off the boat from ** Italy; **// //We’ve been here for over a century.//

//__Put down__// //from the get go,// //Telling **us** to go home.// //Sent us to the// **//bottom//** //of the stack;// //If they could they’d send us back.//

//Shoved// //my people into mills;// //Trying to stifle the ** “Italian Spills”. **// //Dark hair,// **//dark eyes//**//, dark skin;// //Defying the perfect race: ** Aryan. **//

//Considered “illegitimate” to the “perfect, elite”// //Expecting us to kneel and// **//worship//** //at their feet.// //A disgrace to the **__ “native eyes”, __**// //They __beat__ us down, __ignored__ our cries.//

//Either sterilized or committed on the spot,// //It didn’t matter if we were// **//“defective”//** //or not.// //I am a “ //**//__ degenerate __//**// ”… // //But who’s not?//

//__** Half Castes **__// //their faces contorted with a look of disgust// //the color of my skin they cannot trust .// //but it wasn't I who set their lives array,// //I didn't take them from their parents;// //take them far, far away//

//In their minds I'm just another white Devil;// //a disturbance to their peace; a Mr. Neville//

//I never asked them to talk like me,// //look like me, worship like me// //forced assimilation isn't for me.//

//they look at me strangely, wide eyes full of fear:// //"thirty years from now, will be culture be here?"//

//they're the "lost generation", forced into assimilation// //but in the eyes of my people, they're just another abomination.//