A/N: So these are the poems I turned in for my final English poem portfolio. I got all possible points. WOOP, WOOP! The first one is in a funny format, but basically ice and fire are supposed to be right next to each other and be read at the same time and steam goes after them. Confusing, I know but that's how it was supposed to be. It's the internet's fault. All of these are self explanatory so I'm not going to explain them but just know they were all in assigned formats so they're a little different than what I would normally write, even though I bended them to be fun for me. The other poems we did in class will be published in a different multi-chapter post that I will hopefully begin posting today or tomorrow. ENJOY! -ducky

Ice, Fire, steam


You're like


Why are you doing this?

You know he

Won't live

You're wrong.

So cold?

I'm not, you're

Too hot

You're burning him

He's my boy too.

You'll cause his pain.

He'll burn like this,

My way is



He's better off without you,

I'm taking him away.

You can't!

I will.

He is my son.

He can't live!


You're like


Why are you doing this?

You know he

Can make it

You're wrong.

He will make it

He will survive

He's my boy.

Why are you

So cold?

You'll cause his pain.

He'll freeze like this,

My way is



He's better off without you,

I'm taking him away.

You can't!

I will.

He is my son.

He can't live

Like this!


I've already drifted away.


He is short in my eyes

But tall in those of his friends

Because he went into kindergarten a year late

In a year or two

People will start to wonder

If we're twins,

My brother and me.

Blue eyes, with green in the center, but only

On bright days.

Dark brown hair

That never listens to a brush.

But he and I are different.

He is younger.

He has a quick temper.

A harsh view.

I should know,

I've often been the victim

Of his rage.

Nor does he share my memory.

He spend too much time

Frying himself on computer screens.

So he can't remember anything.

He could list almost every Pokémon

That ever existed to you though…

He remembers when he cares.

Trouble is the caring part…

He'd never admit it,

But he really is a nerd.

When he stays up late,

It's because he's buried in a book,

Not play video games.

And sleep?

He wakes up at 6:00 a.m. on weekends.

You'll be lucky if you can get him up at eight on a school day.

He's deathly afraid

Of getting braces a third time,

But I always have to remind him to

Wear his retainer.

That another thing we don't share.

Our teeth.

I've never had braces.

And I was the thumb sucker.

Our writing differs too.

He should be a lefty.

But his first grade teacher

Wasn't to keen on that.

So he holds his pencil weird,

Writes really small…

And makes a point

Of laughing at himself about it.

People always slur his name

Because he's shy

And slurs his speaking around new people.


They miss the 'l'.

Because he's shy.

But then…

After a week…

He doesn't care anymore.

He's loud.

He's fearless.

No more slurs.



What people are not is


There is not a single


Person on the entire planet

We aren't


Because we forget that

Our home

Is also

Their home
they are truly the


Ones here.

The inhuman.

We worry about

The poor and the starving

Thinking we are


When no one come to them.

The inhuman

They aren't


In the literal sense

As we could be

They must fight


To stay


But they are


Because they know

The world will

Keep moving

Without them.

They aren't needed

To do anything but live

They are


They don't worry for


They know things will


They live for


So the world can be


Because they will


Get a second chance

So they


So that


Can learn to be


And so humans don't


Destroy the Earth

So I'm begging you,

Learn to be


We aren't the


Ones here.