Unspoken Object

She isn’t here very much, the dust spoke from the window seals and the shelfs. e clothes thrown on the floor mixed between clean and dirty said she was indecisive. e three baby blue walls and the last gray one were rather bare, small holes and forgotten tacks, saying her personality was changing. e unmade bed, the blanket scrunched up in a human print in multiple directions and pillow to the side said she had trouble sleeping. A backpack thrown onto the stool in the corner said that she was still young. It's cold in there and dusted with the last bits of winter spoke of the broken heater in the wall. A younger little girl likes to play in here and pretend to be her older sister. e forgotten bunny stuffed animal was sitting on the desk next to the stack of flashcards that held little drawings and jumbles of misspelled words. e girl was religious but seems like she's lost her connection with god, the worn dusty bible sat on the shelf feeling unknown in the room. ere were images on the wall of her lingering childhood that was starting to fade. A picture of her 8 years ago smiled back at her hugging her mother like a scared child does with so many unknowns and wonders of the word. A photo of a small baby was hung in the middle, but to the let was that little girl now, a full head of hair and now her own thoughts and opinions stringing in her eyes. Growing up way too fast under her big sisters eyes, and following in her big sisters exact footsteps scared the girls room. e single faded dry tear on the image spoke a thousand words of how much she missed those days.

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What inspired this poem was my room and how my life looked through the eyes of all of the objects inside. The message I was trying to convey is basically growing up, I have a wall of images throughout my life on it and each one is another step in my life but also my families. A line I’m most proud of is “A photo of a small baby was hung in the middle, but to the left was that little girl now, a full head of hair and now her own thoughts and opinions stringing in her eyes.” It hits hard because watching my little sister grow up has been one of the weirdest and hardest things to comprehend. This line describes that fast change and how weird it is to watch someone you thought was born yesterday grow up to be their own little human. I believe the main two types of poetic devices are symbolic writing and allusion. Symbolic because a few of the items mentioned have a massive impact on my life through a small description. They have a meaning behind each item that goes beyond just the words. Then allusion is throughout the story when talking about my little sister. It's an underlying message throughout the whole poem.