By Iliana Bonet
Everyone treats me like i’m nothing
i’m worthless and cheap;
That is until you have nothing to eat.
i may not have much worth
But why treat me like a piece of dirt?
Till one day an eager girl see’s me
And i light up her world
A beautiful young girl
And her hair is curled
Everyone else is wild
But this girl has a big beautiful smile
Showing me off like i’m her child.
Then she puts me in this jar
Where i see my brothers
Damn, she makes me feel like no other.
i am unique
i am a penny .
i may have little worth
But I’m done being bullied by jerks…
TORTURE By Daniella Pottinger
I’m getting dizzy.
Abe was completely spent. Before I was thrust into this torture session, I saw him motionless on the desk. His eyes were so distant and I could tell that he was in severe shock.
I want to scream, but I can’t do it. I’m so vulnerable and helpless. I keep on spinning, and I don’t think that this torture will ever end.
Why do these people enjoy doing this to us? Why is it that everyone has to spin us around for what seems like an eternity? I’m getting more sick, and I feel like I may pass out, but suddenly, I stop spinning. I fall on the desk and I’m feeling so lightheaded. Even though the torture has come to an end, I can’t feel relieved because I saw the same person reaching over to grab Abe.
It’s just an endless, hellish cycle.
Tough Money By Luceilinn Figueroa
I’m in the pocket of a United States Marine. I ended up in his pocket because “Mr. War Hero” over here asked for change. Now, if you guys are wondering how much I’m worth, I am worth 25 cents. This War Hero met the president. You know how cool that is! I heard Obama’s voice for the first time. He’s old like me, but I am a little rusty and dirty. Now I ain’t saying he’s dirty, I’m saying I am, GET IT STRAIGHT! But anyways, I like being in his uniform pocket because we travel everywhere together. We once went to Iraq, Afghanistan and Hawaii. When he took me out of his pocket, I was able to see what my owner looked like and also my surroundings. It was beautiful. There were a lot of buildings I got to explore and learn about. What I also spotted with my eye was that Purple Heart Medal he was wearing. I was stunned to see it because not everyone earns that kind of medal. He truly is a War Hero. I always knew that I would like my owner because he doesn’t spend me. He likes to keep me in his pocket most of the time, but when he takes me out, he just places me on a surface and looks at me and admires me while I admire my surroundings. I know for the future, he will spend me, and I will travel for a long time. I wonder what Indiana looks like. I would love to find out, but for the most part, I will be a part of a United States Marine’s Life…until he spends me.
I AM ALIVE!! WOOHOO!! Time to get spent, wonder what I’m going to get used for!? Oh. Look, it’s a truck, why is it here though, and why are they putting me inside of it? This is all so new and confusing… Omg, it’s been forever since I got on this blasted truck. When are they going to let me out? Wait, what was that big bang? Now there’s screaming. What’s going on? Oh yes, finally the bloody truck is being opened; maybe now I’ll be free!! Who is this masked man grabbing me, where is he taking me? Wait, oh no is that another truck. Are you kidding me, God… Well, at least that ride was a little bit shorter. A new place; this will be very interesting, a new person. Who is this, and why is he wearing such a tacky all white suite? Looks like a cliché gangster, anyways oh look, he has more bills in his back pocket, new friends! Where am I? This place is disgusting. Why don’t these girls wear clothes? HEY! HEY! HEY! STOP! DON’T PUT ME THERE!! EWWWWWW NOOOOO!
Sincerely Yours, Energy
Untitled By Keianna G
I am the perfect ten.
A ten that’s dropped by everyone that they grow connections with and a ten that gets broken but then gets put back together in a matter of hours.
I am the perfect ten.
I am used for daily needs and sometimes crime. The perfect ten that is used in gambling and later on gets stomped all over when I’ve been given to someone wrongly.
I am the perfect ten.
With bruises and scars that seem to wash away once I hit the laundry mat.
But then, I got broken up for good. I’m not the perfect ten anymore, for I am the important change.
I’ve traveled to Queens, Brooklyn and even Staten Island where I’ve been used for lottery tickets, scratch offs and a couple of football games.
I am no perfect ten, for I am the important change.
My Owner By Lucia Perez
I am marked with a sign on my top right hand corner. It’s been awhile since I’ve traveled. I see the same thing everyday-darkness because I’m trapped in a little black jewelry box. The box opens and I say to myself, “I’m FREE!!! I remember her walking to the whole foods supermarket, and as she walked the aisle she would collect her fruits and vegetables. This is her daily shopping routine and she always takes me along, just in case she ever needs me. It’s time to pay and the total comes out to $15 dollars. She gives me in and receives back a $5 dollar bill. I am now devastated because I’ve been with her almost my whole life.
I enjoyed taking daily walks with her, feeling the wind as it hit my face, but now I’m in the possession of a stubborn male who throws me in a corner without a care in the world. He then takes me and rips me in half like if I was a receipt, taping me back together and putting me in his back pocket. “I can’t BREATH!!! I wish I had my original owner back. As the stubborn man walks out his house, I am left in his back pocket to fly away and be forgotten.
Now wondering where I’ll end up, I’ve been traveling for a good week going house to house hoping to find someone who will appreciate a ripped bill. I am now found by a nice lady who picks me up from underneath a bench where I was stuck. She puts me in her pocket along with 75 cents. When I thought that I was safe, I was wrong because once I entered the pocket, all I could hear was how they couldn’t stand the space they were in and how they are never used. I’m thinking that I am saved, but now I’m wrong and I’m just wishing to have my owner back.
The lady takes a walk to the nearest whole foods store and I notice that she grabs her fruits and vegetables and heads to the register to pay. The total comes out to $20.50 cents, she gives me in and the only thing that I can think of is “who’s going to be my next owner”. People come and people go and I’m still here waiting. Here comes the next customer. I’m pulled out of the cash register along with the 50 cents that I met in the young women’s pocket.
“Hey this is my original $20 dollar bill, and I know because I marked it at the top right hand corner”. I say to myself, “I’m saved and my dream came true”. I explained to the coins that they will be living a better life than ever before. I have now learned my lesson to never complain about not being used. We get home, and I am once again placed in the little black jewelry box from where I came from. Thank you and goodnight.
USELESS PAPER MONEY By The King of Sadness
Found me on the floor of Chillies, swept up when I was found. Used up in the corner store for a chopped cheese, got some change back, of course. Rich man walking by trying to change his life, passed his ideal to his son who took life as a game. The rich denote my useless life and yet the poor yearn for me to pay those sins we call bills, a bill, that’s all I am, that’s all I can be. With that crazy haired man walking my front, maybe I ain’t as useless as the rich make me out to be. Maybe I have more worth than you think. More worth than that useless paper money.
Empty Can By S.Renee
This can is cold. The torn glove on this woman’s hand is the only thing protecting me from the bitter snow. It’s been two weeks now. For me at least. There were about 46 other guys in this can by the time I got here, and who knows how long this woman has been immobile on this vile street. Her hand shakes as she holds us up asking for spare change. They all ruthlessly walk by without an ounce of remorse. I haven’t been with this lady very long. Heck, I don’t even know her name, but I so desperately want to be of help to her. Maybe it’s beyond a mere coin’s comprehension, but how could they all just as easily act as if she’s a lower life form. I can see it in her eyes that even as she holds up the can pleading for help, she knows that her chances are slim to none. Her cheeks are hollowed, bags under her eyes caressed by dark circles. She looks…already dead. The can becomes dark, the sun has set and the iridescent moon cloaks the sky. There’s no one left on the street. The woman’s breathing becomes faint, and I can’t tell whether she’s sleeping or…