Teen Poetry Collections

Compact Disc Player

by a young woman, age 15

Compact disc player
is me. Walking
around silent unless
you push “Play.” Not
my regular voice. I don’t seem to be a
person. I am an
object, a glass CD.
You play around with
my true feelings.
You scratch my life
away, fade my name
when in sunlight you
see me, but you
don’t see my memory fading. I got dumb
when you broke the
CD. Copied on another,
but it’s a fake me. I’m different to myself.
At least when you copy me
down.


Dedicated to my true friend