8th grade Poetry
Boiling, bubbling, blistering water
inside me getting hotter and hotter.
Spreading, seeping, steaming heat
praying for my heart to beat.
Swirling around the tiny pot
are my thoughts I thought I forgot.
But now these thoughts need a release
from the little kettle burning inside of me.
My pulse now racing,
my body still shaking,
I can’t let these feelings show,
but now I know they need to go.
Then comes a whistle
like a man or a missile.
Finally out of the tiny spout
are the feelings that had to get out.