Sorry for posting AGAIN, but hey look, poetry! :P

So in my creative writing class we were asked to come up with a blank verse poem on the spot yesterday, in class, consisting of three stanzas, on any subject of our choice. After reading Robert Frost's "Directive" (I highly recommend it) and commenting on the fact that the last few lines resulted in my having goosebumps, my professor jokingly noted that all of our poems should give him, in turn, "goosepimples..." :P

I thus set out to write something meaningful and personal, but doing so in 10 syllables a line is more difficult than I had anticipated, as it's not my usual writing style. All the same, here it is, for your reading pleasure:

Giving Thanks

Following my passage down a darkened
hall is a memory repressed, edges
untattered, its corners are sharp; lines clean
and crisp like a photograph never touched,
nor cherished, but instead it's locked away
as in a secret album, or a young
girl's diary with a brushed copper clasp
and a forgotten key. The colors are
faded but the image is clear, biting,
stinging, frightening. Her innocence is
stolen in this memory, taken by
one who will never know hurt the way he's
hurt her. Unfair? Her answer: "Life's not fair."

"I won't let it change me!" she may shout in
defiance, as her sharp little chin juts
out in a display of proud resilience,
and she convinces herself she's okay.

Her childhood lost, she replaces it
with a determination to survive
all in her life that aims to destroy her.
You may avert your eyes in shame, disgust,
or shake your head in pity at how much
he managed to take away, but please...Don't.
After all these years it's become clear...Should
I not thank him now for making me strong?