emmanuelle sanders

I'd often wonder, 'What's with my age?
What; s with it that people get enraged? '
I mean, come on, I'm only twelve, OK,
Can't I do things my way?
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Sometimes, when you do something
But everyone around declines,
You think, “So what? Are they my folks
Who have the right to control my mind? ”
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They say an educator is an inspiration
If his students pursue dreams with fierce dedication.
So this poem I write for a teacher I've just met,
Being in his class I wouldn't regret.
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When I first saw you
I thought we'd just be friends.
Then you said that you'll always need me
So I guessed our friendship would never end.
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(Remember:
With the heart, you can love. You can forgive. You can see the real beauty of a person. Without it, you’re numb. You’re useless. You’re dead.)

Good morning, teacher,
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You saw me cry, you saw me smile.
You saw me dance and laugh for a while.
The day came, he broke my heart,
You asked me to tell you, part by part.
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Your life ain't perfect, somebody would say,
There'd be a time where you can't do it your way.
There are haters, also friends,
That you'll, in some times, depend.
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So many things occurred since I saw you that day.
Those made me look like a vulnerable prey.
I've been a laughing stock of those incompetent fools,
Whom I see everyday in school.
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('Dreaming ain't tiring.
It's just the fulfillment of it that'll make you work hard.
Real hard.')
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Last year, when I first saw this man
I didn't care much; I'm not his fan.
I'd just continue living my life,
With all those problems, and things alike.
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Right from the start, you already said
That you'll be there in times that I dread.
I foolishly believed, for evident it is the cause
From the way you delivered it, without any flaws.
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Days have passed and I have heard
Things unpleasant, things absurd.
At first I couldn't tolerate what they say,
But I can't anymore do it my way.
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A hobo so cute, so gorgeous in stature,
When could we see them, in the near future?
I don't need to wait, for I found him now.
First glance, and I was wowed.
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In my life there's something imperfect,
And that would be the reason I'd reflect.
Why, is it a someone, or something?
No, but it's wrecking my well-being.
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For the past years, it seems
That my life isn’t a magical dream.
Friendships broken, tensions rekindle,
And useless blabbers try to mingle.
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Look at her, you may think she’s perfect.
She has everything, everyone in her league.
But there’s actually something behind her mask.
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