They'll Never Know

They'll Never Know - Summer Haque (Fairmont Schools, Eighth Grade)

Perfectly imperfect

Constantly seen and felt

Judged for every minor scar and flaw

On display in a crystal jar

They listen for a siren’s song

They toss me aside for my cracks and crevices

Little does anyone know, they’re my battlescars,

My souvenirs carved into me.

They’ll never know what it’s like to be a seashell.

Perfectly imperfect

Pushed and pulled in an endless cycle

Waving hello and goodbye

Forever giving and taking

Offering treasures and gifts

Protecting what belongs

Pushing away what threatens to harm

They neglect, poison, and destroy.

My absence creates a barren, dusty existence

And no matter how hard I try,

I can’t possibly satisfy what lives outside of my threshold.

They’ll never know what it’s like to be the sea.

Perfectly imperfect

Hot or cold

Wet or dry

Ever-evolving, yet, eternally the same

Made of billions, but seen as one.

Molded by anything and everything

Kicked, pushed, and packed

They don’t see that my journey started long before them

From rocky cliffs to ocean floors

I am constantly changing and never settle.

They’ll never know what it’s like to be the sand.

Perfectly imperfect

Once severed and separated from all I’ve known

I float through the water,

Aimlessly wandering,

Swirling around feet and fins.

Washed ashore and discovered

No longer a protector or provider,

They use me as a whip, an ornament,

Carelessly abandoned.

They’ll never know what it’s like to be seaweed.

Perfectly imperfect

I’m a lookout, I am a constant, I am an emblem.

I see what they cannot.

Forever being used and never given anything in return.

They underestimate the heights I can reach

Still standing long after they’re gone.

They’ll never know what it’s like to be a palm tree.

Perfectly imperfect

I’m the powerhouse, the beginning of everything.

No matter what, no matter who,

They wouldn’t be here without me

I’m forever bright and bold

My presence always known,

I always bring hope

But I can’t help that it burns

They’ll never know what it’s like to be the sun.

Visitors turned vandals

They’ll never know that it was perfectly perfect

before they caused it to be imperfect.