My Poem

I wrote this poem in the 8th grade.  I should preface it by telling you why this poem is special.  I'm a very left-brained person.  Some friends told me to try an internet test which will tell me how much I use the four major sections of the brain.  My friends were all around 25/25/25/25, but I was around 80/10/0/10, with 80 being left frontal lobe and 0 being right frontal lobe.  Of course, this is just a simple internet test, but the contrast is very telling.  One day, I woke up after a nightmare and didn't feel well.  I couldn't think straight about anything.  I even had trouble typing.  I knew I had to write a poem for my creative writing class, so I figured my way into Word Perfect and started typing.  So here it is, typos and all...  (By the way, when I first wrote it, I didn't write the last two lines, but at the time, I thought it was too confusing for 8th graders, so I added the last two lines.  Everything original I write is public domain.)
No Help, No Hope, A Speck of Clarity in Life

A nightmare I had
    A disappearance of something common makes you search, not knowing what you're looking for or even doing.  A feeling that someone is overpowering you and using you and that you will die not knowing anything of what happened or is happening.  The feeling of a mind that is overpowering you is a speck of clarity that shows in your mind as something you see.  Very soon you are stuck in one place getting ever hungrier and not seeing or hearing anything except the speck.  You can't move so you try to think about what has, is, and will happen, big you can't think straight.  You just stare at the speck and something finally occurs to you.  You reach for the speck and try to stretch it open.  It takes a long time to open it, but you finally get a vague sight of life.  It has changed alot.  You still can't think but can move and do things on impulse.  You go to the dinner table, but it is empty.  Even though there is lots of food in the refrigerator, you don't feel so hungry anymore, so you go to your room to read, but the letters don't make any sense and so you just lay there, helpless, confused, alone, afraid, thinking about the book which you understand but can't think of what it means or what it's about.  You finish the book and then think about the speck.  You stretch it open more and then find what you were looking for.  You still can't think, but you understand what you were looking for.  It was your understanding of the worth of life.  You wake up to a nicer world.