They ride on paper planes
Green paper bills
I ride in a metal car
They fly through the sky
Doing somersaults, barrel rolls, and loops
Things I’ve never heard of

I work during day, building a tower
To reach the highest branch in the tallest tree
To build a house
To start a family
My dreams plagued with worry
My work plagued with hope

My mouth filled with the taste of copper
I’m sick, I’m sick of metal
Look up at the sky as high as their planes
The tree ominously stands
Fading from my view as I bend back down

They’ve been flying all their lives
Sickening crashes, they’re used to
Another plane always ready
But I’ll be doomed if my tower falls

My tower high and proud
But it’s nothing to the pilots
I place the last brick
Walk up the stairs
Climb up and up and up
My fellow ant sized friends building their own towers
The paper plane pilots whoosh around me
And I fear I might fall off

Once I’m in this scenery
High from the euphoria
Air blowing deliciously
Filling my crazed appetite
I can’t help but feel jealous
Of the paper plane pilots
Whose life was never about making towers
Their ravenous appetites subjects to the most beautiful of scenes
Instead of metal, like me
I may be stronger
My metal heftier
But paper rules this world
The pilots swift as the bills themselves

And as I reach the top
I see a paper plane pilot
Already nestled in the leaves
That were supposed to be my home

Originally published in KidSpirit Online for the Adventurous Spirit issue.

When she wrote this poem, Lasya Panchagnula was 16 years old. She enjoys writing poetry and reading up about psychology, as well as procrastinating on her homework.