What Makes Us Human

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What Makes Us Human

Table of Contents Are You a Monster?

Underwater Enchantress Hidden Monster No One Wants to be Friends with the Little Vampire Twitter Retweets: To Live Every Day Like Halloween

1 2 3 4

Haunted by the Past Her Doll on My Bed Streets of Savannah Hauntings from the Ghost of My Younger Self The Next American Idol

7 8 9 10

Suffering with Anxiety Normal People Scare Me Onism Are You Weak?

Erase Her Going up or going down?

13 14 15 16 17

Utterly in Love Yin and Yang Love is Whatever Until Death Do Us Part Don’t Look Back I just wanna be part of your symphony

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Notes & Acknowledgements About the Author Author’s Note

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Are You a Monster?

Underwater Enchantress Expanding her rows of fangs,

Masked behind a maze of rocks

they twinkle in the blue abyss.

One sister grabs his ankles,

the siren waits for dinner.

while she holds onto his wrists.

She hums her haunting lullaby.

A wild whirlpool The sky splatters droplets onto the surface of the ocean, accompanying her sorrowful song

of iridescent tresses swarm around his body and begin to smother the prey.

with the rhythm of a drum.

The rest of the crew call out Her charming voice

to their friend below the crimson canvas.

lures a ship full of men.

All they see below the murky water

Disoriented by the downpour,

is an army of beady eyes glaring back.

they follow where the echoes begin.

The figure dips down into the frenzied waves.

As they approach, a brave soul dives into the depths after her.

He is face to face with a beast.

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Hidden Monster I. They waited patiently for nightfall to stalk through the midnight air. She jerked her body along the path of the dingy alleyway. Lights flickered above deteriorating doors. The walls of buildings cracked and crumbled. Her figure morphed in and out of physical focus. She was a ravenous blur creeping behind shadows. Laughter echoed from a group of men farther up the path. Her monster growled behind blood-red lips. Contorting her body backward, a skeletal, black mass separated itself from her being. It latched itself onto her back, digging in deeply with its sharp claws. She stepped forward into the illumination of purple and green LEDs. The men whistled and howled at the girl, distracted by her beauty. None of them saw the creature rise over her head with its spiteful glare and widening rows of fearsome fangs. All that remained was the sound of their screams.

II. She was betrayed by her beloved. He used, abused, and pushed her to a breaking point. His insults bruised her body and mind. She sold her soul in hopes of ridding herself of the anger that burned her flesh and the sadness that weighed down her heart. Over time, she carried out her plan to escape her mortal emotions. She gathered ingredients, collected candles, practiced drawing symbols, and memorized the chants. The girl did not realize she was inviting in a demon to take her soul’s place. She did not realize her mistake until it was too late.

III. Now she lets the creature carry its nightly patrols, guiding the hungry beast towards every despicable soul.

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No One Wants to be Friends with the Little Vampire It is 8:00 pm.

Again.

I am awake, but all the kids are getting ready for bed.

While they brush their teeth and moan about school the next day, I am getting dressed, ready to hunt and play.

I always wave to the children on my street, when they head off to school on dark, dreary mornings.

But they never return the gesture and smile back at me, I guess cuz’ I’m the weird little girl whose fangs are alarming.

If only I could invite them to a sleepover and let them see my pretty dolls and dresses.

But my family would probably devour them whole, then I’d have to help them clean up the messes.

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Twitter Retweets: To Live Every Day Like Halloween

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Haunted by the Past

Her Doll on My Bed I look at the doll, the doll on my bed.

She has bright, shining hair, hair that’s strawberry red.

I gaze into her glassy, baby-blue eyes, baby-blue eyes that stare back at me.

Her warm, little smile reminded me of my mother, my mother’s smile that filled me with glee.

“Why so sad, poor little girl?”

“I am a poor little girl and that’s why I’m sad.”

She looked at me confused.

My mother and her doll were all that I had.

I shed a tear, looking at that doll’s face, that doll’s face that told me I missed her.

Her hug felt so real and comforting, comforting when I heard “I love you” in a whisper.

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Streets of Savannah Bewitched

by Spanish moss

swaying delicately in the breeze

a mist starts to form over the streets

Enchanted

by Forsyth Park Fountain

water sparkles underneath

eerie glow of antique lamp posts

Surrounded

by lush greenery

a faint smell of the sea washes over me

Droplets descend from the overcast above

Georgia’s liveliest souls dance in the streets

Will this beauty be masked

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by the ghosts of the past?

Hauntings from the Ghost of My Younger Self She died with me on that day the honey-brown hair turned red and I no longer weighed myself down in a dozen beaded necklaces. My younger self still haunts me.

She is the ghost hidden behind the mirror each time I look back at my reflection. I hear her highpitched giggles in my ear as she talks to her imaginary friends. Throughout the day, she whispers stories to me to help me keep writing and feel her connection to the past.

Whenever I feel lonely, I look at old pictures on my laptop. She hovers over me and we laugh about our youth. She points out my mismatched clothes when I was first discovering my style. I cringe at the wacky combo of camouflage and polka dots. You were so silly, I remind her. You still are, she smiles at me.

Today I wear bows in my hair, colorful skirts, and extra accessories so she knows I still think about her.

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The Next American Idol My mom was the cameraman.

The bed was my stage.

My stuffed animals, my fans.

A rising star at a young age.

I grabbed wigs, props, accessories, playing all of the contestants, performing songs from my memory, like I do now in the present.

I put on an act, making my characters sound pitchy, to save the best for last, so I could sound most pretty.

Who was the finalist?

You’d never guess.

It was Sierra who sounded the best!

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Suffering with Anxiety

Normal People Scare Me I am fine on my own yet I don’t want to be alone.

There’s a difference.

But once I step into a crowded room all I hear is static with a fizzing sound that makes my skin crawl and stomach twist and turn like a rollercoaster speeding through an endless loop-the-loop but I can’t get off this ride because I have to be a human or maybe it’s better to become a mechanical machine so I can talk to these other human beings but then I wouldn’t be myself and I already feel like an outsider surrounded by all of these eyes staring at me with lips moving but words not fully reaching my ears because I am a deer caught in the headlights of their gaze while I’m trapped in an invisible box that only I can see and it separates us because they are normal, unlike me.

But as soon as I break away from the scene I can finally breathe.

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Onism I am the body of an author I am the body of a singer The two worlds collide and cause myself to collapse.

I want to write what I feel I want to perform on the stage I am stuck in this one body where I can’t be in two places at once.

What If I could split myself in half?

Or duplicate my being?

Then I would only have half the fun.

Someday the two bodies will connect like twin flames intersecting and morph as one.

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Are You Weak?

Yes. I take a deep breath, burying the anxieties in my chest, anything to stop my head from spinning.

The heart is constrained, beating against the metal bars of its cage, and I wonder how much more I can take.

and

No. I paint my face, adorning my body with décor, anything to make my appearance roar.

I move through the sludge of life, trudging over the bones of those who’ve failed, and I think that makes me strong as hell.

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Erase Her a word written on a line a drawing infected by mistakes can be corrected and made fine once you flip the pencil and erase.

what’s a human to do when they no longer feel fine? when their life’s a mistake? and you can’t fix your design?

wishing to be perfect the girl caves in like crumpled paper reminded of her defects she wonders what if you erase her?

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Going up or going down?

I ride the same elevator day after day.

My apartment is on the top floor.

Everything is always the same.

I begin the journey in the center,

and fill the

while everyone talks to someone but me.

My anxiety makes my stomach ache.

But then a stranger catches my eye.

Waiting for people to pile in

Eventually, I find myself squished in the corner,

gaps.

This person acknowledged my existence.

A moment goes by

I will never forget the simple question they asked me…

and I hear a ding.

“Going up or going down?”

Buried in a hood, the teenage boy steps inside, blocking the world out with his earbuds.

Following him, a couple of gossipy gals wearing suffocating scents of musk mixed with rose.

Walking in with a swagger, is the guy in Harry Potter glasses and a fedora.

His scratchy sweater scrapes against my skin.

Next few floors down, the lady with too much makeup strolls in with a scowl on her face (as usual)—Did she ever smile?

I feel invisible and want to escape.

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Utterly in Love

Yin and Yang Dear death, You complete me.

When the world feels like it’s crumbling beneath me, You save me.

When I need stability underneath me, You balance me.

Your midnight black cloak feels cool to the touch as it brushes against my warm, glowing skin.

I am in awe of the sparkle of your scythe under the moonlight.

You reached for the soft feathers on my wings but it caused me to flinch.

You bury your boney face in your hood and I blush for you.

There is no light without dark no sweet without sorrow no day without night no good without evil and most importantly there is no life without you.

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Love is Whatever You dazzle me with that twinkle in your eye.

I am breathless looking at your smile.

Love is that lightning behind each one of your kisses.

It is the electricity of your touch.

Love is the warmth of your hand holding mine.

It is comforting whenever I’m wrapped in your embrace.

Love is patience each time you calm my anxiety.

It is the sweetness of your words and the goofy jokes you make.

Love is forever no matter the stormy weather.

I know you will be my best friend because we’re stronger together.

Love is whatever, as long as it is you and me.

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Until Death Do Us Part Is it really love when our bond breaks as soon as we decay?

Hold on a little longer, and keep my fading memory in your heart.

Be my Orpheus, following me to the realm of the dead.

Let our love be inseparable.

I will forever be yours.

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Don’t Look Back You waited for me in your car, and the setting sun ignited the sky with colors.

As I made my way to the passenger side, I heard the booming bass of your music.

The moment I buckled up we were off, flying through the night and leaving our worries behind.

I’m enjoying this wild ride with you by my side.

We sang along to “Check Yes, Juliet,” Your hand holding mine.

I never want this moment to end.

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I just wanna be part of your symphony I won’t chase you but could you just stay?

Let the music consume us like a wave.

The lovely sound of your voice is like a constant lullaby, making me look up at the sky all starry-eyed.

You make me feel warm inside, like I’m sitting by a fire on a chilly, autumn night.

You give me the right kind of chill that makes me shiver.

Your presence is the song I will always remember.

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Notes

“Underwater Enchantress” was published in Etchings Press Volume 35.1.

“Twitter Retweets: To Live Every Day Like Halloween” is a collage poem I created by screenshotting retweets from my Twitter page.

The television show, American Idol, is mentioned within the poem and the title of “The Next American Idol.”

I recorded “Normal People Scare Me” as spoken word poetry. It was published in the Etchings Press Volume. 35.2 and can be found on either my official SoundCloud or the Etchings Press SoundCloud.

The word “onism” in my poem of the same name is from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

A reference to Harry Potter appears in “Going up or going down?” to indicate the style of glasses worn by one of the characters stepping into the elevator.

The poem, “Yin and Yang,” is inspired by the artwork preceding it which I found on Google Images.

I allude to the Greek mythological figure, Orpheus, in “Until Death Do Us Part.”

In “Don’t Look Back,” I reference the song, “Check Yes, Juliet” by We The Kings.

“I just wanna be part of your symphony” is a song lyric from “Symphony” by Clean Bandit ft.

Zara Larsson. I used this lyric as inspiration for the rest of the poem.

Acknowledgments

I appreciate the help from my mom, dad, nana, boyfriend, and cat who have always supported me throughout my journey as a writer. Anytime I want someone to read my written pieces and offer suggestions, I know I can always count on my loved ones. I am thankful I can express myself comfortably, showing my vulnerabilities on the page without the fear of judgment.

Whenever I doubt myself, they are there to remind me of my strengths and potential. My cat has been my emotional support system through everything in my life. He is always by my side, calming my nerves with his soothing purrs. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend. Each day I spent revising, my mom followed along throughout the process, reminding me of details about my childhood for “The Next American Idol,” which is based on a youthful memory. Some of my love poems in this chapbook are inspired by my feelings and personal experiences with the love of my life.

This chapbook also wouldn’t be possible without the creative prompts, feedback, and encouragement of my Poetry Writing Workshop 370 professor, Liz Whiteacre, and fellow poets in the class.

Thank you, to the loving people in my life, for showing me what it means to be human.

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About the Author

Sierra Brooke Durbin is a creative writing major and music minor at the University of Indianapolis. Feeling musical and lost in the stars, she loves to blend her passions of storytelling and singing, often writing poems, short stories, and songs. Her poetry and prose have been published in Etchings Press and she has received a 2021 Dorlis Gott Armentrout Award honorable mention for outstanding undergraduate writing for her horror short story “Bone Creeper” in Etchings Press Volume 34.1. Recently, her piece “Drowning The Flames” won 3rd Place for Literary Magazine Flash Fiction, which was issued by the Indiana Collegiate Press Association. When she’s not performing on stage, she writes articles and manages the Instagram account for the number one college magazine chapter called Her Campus at Indy. On social media, she is an influencer and content creator that goes by the name, “Sierrallstar.”

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Author’s Note

What Makes Us Human is a collection of poems I wrote in response to a variety of unique prompts during my Poetry Writing Workshop course. At the beginning of the semester, I wrote three poems each week with the goal to try and go out of my comfort zone and dabble with different themes and forms. Since I have more experience with writing song lyrics, I tend to write poetry that is in quatrains, but I wanted to be more creative and intentional with my decisions on the form and spacing. This chapbook features poems I wrote for the weekly journals as well as in-class activities and what I conjured up in my free time. Looking back at the 18 poems I wrote during this term, I noticed several involved the supernatural and paranormal, childhood memories, my experience with anxiety, and an emphasis on the powerful feeling of love. Nearly half of the poems I wrote are based on personal experiences or emotions and the rest come from my love of writing fantasy and horror.

The workshops with my peers helped me feel more confident about my creative choices.

This experience offered me the wonderful opportunity to receive unbiased first-reader impressions as I developed my poems. I also shared my work with my loved ones throughout my revision process and cleaning up stage as I combined all of the elements of the eChapbook in one file. Some days I felt like I was carrying a heavy weight of doubt and frustration while revising my pieces. I am a perfectionist so I kept returning to ones I believed could be improved further, for instance, “Going up or going down” because it is a contemporary style that is unlike anything else I have written since it was not as personal or imaginative as the rest of my poems. I focused on a mundane moment in the speaker’s life, trying to show the monotonous routine of a person who feels ignored. I tried to interrupt this humdrum solitude by introducing a stranger that speaks to her in the end. Being actively involved in music and clubs on campus, I struggled fitting in the amount of time I wanted to sit down, sip on a cup of coffee (even if it is 3 AM), and really dedicate my heart and soul to this project because I care about each part of the process. I wanted to successfully provide my poems a little home where it feels like they truly belong.

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At first, I did not know how to group such diverse themes that fit together in a whole collection. The section, “Are You a Monster?” in the beginning clearly features different creatures, although each slightly appear human or experience what we associate as human emotions. I combined the poems that featured my reflection on the past and personal childhood memories as well as others I wrote about ghosts in “Haunted by the Past.” All of the poems, except for the last one, in the section, “Suffering with Anxiety,” reveal the internal war that goes on inside of my head in regards to struggling with social anxiety, depression, and the ultimate feelings of restlessness and constant worry. I communicate my perspective of what love feels like and question its permanence in some of the poems throughout the last section, “Utterly in Love.” I arranged the poems in an order that created a flow for the reader. The monster section, which I realized unintentionally brings up the idea of consuming humans, transitions into the human experience by going from a vindictive siren to a vengeful demonic attachment to a misunderstood, innocent vampire girl who wishes she could have friends and ending with a poem that encourages people to dress like the characters that would be seen on Halloween. I invite readers on an experience that takes them through moments of isolation, uncertainty, and reflection to discover that what truly makes us human is our ability to love.

Overall, I am proud of my efforts in creating my first chapbook and I am happy I can share it virtually with the public. It has been thrilling watching my creation come to life. I feel accomplished writing poems that reflect my imagination and love for imagery. This journey has taught me so much about my own writing styles and preferences. I was exposed to many writing techniques I will keep in mind as I continue the path of publishing more poetry and prose. I am grateful for this chance to grow as a creator and improve my craft. During workshops, I found out many people thought my poems would be great as short stories because they were so invested in the characters I portrayed. Because of these positive reactions, I may work on some short stories in the future that are inspired by the pieces I can fledge out in more detail. Working on this chapbook reminded me how much I enjoy playing with language and has encouraged me to keep on writing and sharing my voice. I hope to inspire others with my writing and build a connection with my readers so they no longer feel alone.

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poem that encourages people to dress like the characters that would be seen on Halloween. I invite readers on an experience that take them through moments of isolation, uncertainty, and reflection to discover that what truly makes us human is our ability to love.

Overall, I am proud of my efforts in creating my first chapbook and I am happy I can share it virtually to the public. It has been thrilling watching my creation come to life. This journey has taught me so much about my own writing styles and preferences. I was exposed to many writing techniques I will keep in mind as I continue the path of publishing more poetry and prose. I am grateful for this chance to grow as a creator and improve my craft. During workshops, I found out many people thought my poems would be great as short stories because they were so invested in the characters I portrayed. Because of these positive reactions, I may work on some short stories in the future that are inspired by the pieces I can fledge out in more detail. Working on this chapbook reminded me how much I enjoy playing with language and has encouraged me to keep on writing and sharing my voice. I hope to inspire others with my writing and build a connection with my readers so they no longer feel alone.

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