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The Quiet Girl
Everybody thinks I'm quiet.
One time, this kid in my math class
Said he'd never heard me talk.
Even though I participated
Every single day.
There's also my friends.
When I first meet them,
They tell me I'm quiet.
But I'm laughing and telling stories even so.
One friend told me I'd never expressed
My opinions
Or thoughts
Or reactions
When she first met me
At the orchestra potluck
Kids awkwardly hovering over
The food.
She said she had to work
To get me to talk.
She should not have to make me work.
I talk like water flowing
Through a stream
Easily
And readily
At every social opportunity.
What makes people think I'm quiet
When I participate in class
And make enthusiastic conversation
With my friends?
Is it the voice?
The attitude?
The expressions?
The reactions?
In fifth grade
Some boys got me to laugh
And they said it was the first time
They'd ever done it.
Did they not see me
At the round table in the corner
Laughing my head off
With my table buddies?
What is it
That makes people tell me I'm quiet
When really,
I'm screaming?
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When I was writing this poem, I remember just pouring out my thoughts onto paper. I didn’t focus on sensory detail or imagery or any of that. I just wrote. I feel a little guilty whenever I read this poem, because I exaggerate big time and I also say something suggestive about one of my friends. This isn’t meant to be a really deep poem. It was just a way of getting my thoughts out…and writing angry helped with that.