I wrote this form of dramatic poetry (or an epic as you will) almost a year ago. I felt it to be powerful and in most circumstances, helpful. “I’m a Sponge” addresses when you have been suppressing a good cry and the thoughts and fears that come with emotion. Interpret it as you will, but I am comparing myself to a sponge because just as sponges soak up water, I had been soaking up my emotions as well as other people’s. And when a sponge is fully soaked, that’s usually when we squeeze it. So in the same way, I needed to squeeze myself rid of the emotions I had been holding on to before “the last drop falls and I’m left exploding.”
I want to release every thought, every word;
To show I am human,
To prove I am worth.
But I can’t break the silence,
My head says no.
My heart longs for someone who knows
How to understand.
A person as broken as me,
A heart as full as a heart can be,
A mind as ruthless as my own desires,
And a head as full of aspires.
If you know how to squeeze the words out of me…
If you understand what I walk through.
I feel others pain.
I know others worries.
I hold onto so many burdens.
I listen when people don’t want me to.
I know things I shouldn’t
And it haunts me too.
I try so hard to get it right.
To hit perfection while I can inspire.
What happens when I get so full of feeling?
So full of words and thoughts and meaning?
What happens when I cannot hold another drop?
Will I squeeze out the tears and fall apart?
I don’t know.
And that’s what scares me the most.
When vulnerability shakes me to my core,
When tears stream freely and I can express
Just how much pain you have caused me.
When I can be true and speak freely at last-
Will I have anything to add?
If you know everything-
Every desire and dream,
Every waking feeling of anger and steam
-Will you still want me?
Will I still fit?
A broken person crumbled to bits.
I fear I cannot hold another single drop.
But when I am squeezed, what’s left?
What am I left with?
If I feel empty inside with these things in my life,
How empty will I feel with nothing?
I am but a sponge.
So tired of holding
Others up.
When the last drop falls and I’m left exploding,
Promise me you won’t let me fall.
Promise me I will stay standing.
That I will be worth something to someone.
Promise me that I don’t have to be strong.
I only have to be human.
I can’t be a sponge and be human.
I have to pick one.
I’ve been a sponge for so many years
Holding all of this sadness inside.
But now I choose to be a person.
To be broken and to be sad and beautiful.
I would rather break down my walls
Than live life not living at all.
So let the last drop hit me.
Watch what it will do.
There will be pain and tears will be shed.
But watch as I become human.
For as much as I hate to break down,
I can’t bottle all of this emotion.
And I can’t be a person with nothing to show,
I need to be squeezed in order to grow.
If you would like to listen to this poem, I posted an audio recording to my YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/hiYHpoWGgmI.
EMILY DICKINSON 