Tuesday, January 14, 2014


Today at school, my teacher asked what we thought failure meant.
Instantly, I wrote this.

                                                                       My World
                                                                        By: Maya

Why do our movements offend you?
To the counts and beats of the drum, our facial expressions are being pulled by strings.
Have I failed your test?
Has my thought process completely exceeded your ability of comprehension
to the point you have given up on me?
You do not want to.
You stick me in a room with no windows, white walls.
With my extraordinary abilities I create a new world.
Here, everyone is welcomed no matter the pattern of thought.
Where I live, we can fly, read minds, and if we want, be invisible.
Bursting with freedom, my friends can think and speak in ways that is
presumed to be that of genius.
There is no such thing as failure.
For failure is the baby of your competition-seeking and attention-thrilling world.
We have no part of it. We cannot.
My people, we accept nothing but the best. Our best.
On days when we forget how amazing our world is, we visit the place we came from.
We see our loved ones struggle to catch their breathe as they try to beat their neighbor.
We shed a tear when we see the violence and anger that was bred out of constraint.
Day after night.
We cry out for assistance but it is too late.
One by one girls, boys, men, and women learn to love the institution.
Back to the place we love, we solemnly weep for the fallen.
Only for a moment.
Then we return back to sharpening our abilities.
Because we know that at any time, the doors will open.
And we will return. Return to the world we came from.
The world of failure. 

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