I wrote a poem a while ago, and I figured I might as well share it. Please take note this is not about me, nor is it about anyone I know.
The little girl was nothing
Or so her parents thought
So they fed her with wooden spoons
And left her heart to rot
She was of no importance
A burden in their hair
They knew that she needed them
But didn't really care
The sixth grader was a loser
Nothing short of weird
Though perhaps she'd have had friends
If rejection had not been feared
Sometimes, in the girl's room
They would hear her cry
They simply turned their backs
And averted their ears and eyes
The senior was a waste
A slacker, cut and dry
Her teachers said she'd never go to college
And told her not to try
On graduation day
Her sister opened the door
To see a lonely cap and gown
Laying on the floor
The woman is alone now
Lives by the corner store
Working less and less
Drinking more and more
She no longer has hope
And has stopped asking why
For we are what man makes us
Until the day we die
No idea what motivated that happy poem....
no subject
Date: 2005-03-06 06:56 pm (UTC)