7th Grade Poetry
The g.o.a.t.
Uma Khare, 7th grade March 2022
Whoosh! Goes the wind that nearly doused my flames. But not enough power- I just grow stronger. I'm untouchable - unhurtable. The crowd cheers for me anytime I dodge a punch matric-style or land a blow. My opponent named "Whirlwind" is known for turning water in on itself. But me? I'm the G.O.A.T. Only I can beat me. My fire so hot my fans wear sunglasses just to watch my quick, victorious fights. My foes can't sweep my embers or land a punch, how could I ever lose? Whirlwind sprints around as a vortex surrounds me, bringing me back to reality. I can't move. I can't breathe. No O2 for me, no fight left in me. My fans go silent and the other part of the crowd roars with their approval. Water spirits make waves and air spirits spin and twirls feet off the ground. My own fans join the celebration, "Traitors" I think bitterly before my light goes out and I'm warped out of the ring.