The United States government should seriously consider appointing a teenage poet to the position of Laureate. Among the ranks of Maya Angelou, we would have a voice for the angst-stricken. A purveyor of words for the unheard. A weaver of magic for the annoyed.
There she goes again
Offering me a sandwich
She knows I hate Swiss cheese.
Is she taunting me?
Telling me to "eat" my dinner
She appears to me, like a nightmare I cannot wake from...
Have you done your homework?
Get in the car, we will be late for your music practice
Have YOU done your homework
I want to scream back?
I watch her writhe
As she tries to dance to my music.
I laugh, for she cannot know the words of Kanye.
Go back to your Peter Gabriel, Mother!
I want to scream and run for freedom...
But instead, I slowly roll my eyes
and gently exhale
and tighten my burdened shoulders
And I smile, knowing she cannot see me do these things