Dinner Plates

My mother bought new dinner plates.

I didn't think we needed new ones,

They were five dollars,

She said.

I was against using the new plates. My heart was racing and

My eyes were starting to get watery.

I didn't understand why I was so against this.

They're dinner plates,

My mother told me. And I knew that.

I think I was upset because I always had those dinner plates.

I have grown attatched to them, I have memories with them.

The times with big family dinners,

Always confusing who got the bigger and smaller plates,

Making messes and my sister teasing me

By scratching the plate.

I was the only one who got bothered by that.

The nights I stared at the plate, thinking if it was a good idea

To have eaten all that food.

And the nights I didn't put a speck of food ontop of it,

because I didn't think I was worth food.

"They're just dinner plates..." I tell myself.

But I'm too sentimental;

I knew they're so much more than that.

This poem is about: 
My family


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