Every morning, 4:30 PM,
you crawl down to the playroom
and crouch by your dollhouse.
I slouch between two China kitchen chairs,
head lolling, eyes rolling,
heart a hollow pool of wood.
I cannot tell you to stop,
because my vocal cords are clipped like the yarn on my head.
No matter if I want to leave,
because no toy belongs in a world of toddlers.
So I string myself back to these things draping from your claws and dangling like puppet strings.
I’m your little marionette.
At first I don’t realize that it’s coming, it’s happening. All is fine, until it’s not. Then It broils up inside me, bubbles up. Starts at my feet and paints my cheeks, turning my face different hues of embarrassment. The fire escapes, burning people with scolding threats. Fists clammed shut and jaw clenched taught, letting the burning rage devoure the sanity that’s left. Nostrils flare, eyes narrow. There’s no use from denying anger when it’s unstoppable.
My worst flaw?
I change myself for people to like me.
My whole entire life, I’ve been trying to make friends, to seem normal, for people to like me. I cannot stand when anyone is angry at me or dislikes me, so in order to prevent that, I’m willing to change. I hate that, because I know you shouldn’t change the way you are to fit someone else’s standards. everyone should have a right to be themselves without fear of rejection.
Albeit how much I try, I can’t seem to follow my own advice.
A Moment’s Notice
Everything seems fine
stuck in traffic
listening to the radio
no idea of where you’d be in a minute:
on the ground
surrounded by fire
phones calling ambulances
in a moments notice, the life you loved slipped out Your grasp.
The candlelight that represented your life flickered...
But didn’t go out.
you gained a match and lit your candle, burning brighter than ever.
A Much Happier World
A world without Monday is something that I dream of.
Since I’m still in middle school(which is the definition of horrible), Mondays are always the absolute WORST. I‘m pretty sure every kid around my age hates the day, mostly because it means transitioning from “Yay! Fun!” (the weekend) to “More homework (school).”
Without that painful, tiring day, kids would be so much happier. They wouldn’t smell from P.E, which parents would love, they wouldn’t be grumpy during school, which parents would love, and everything could just be happier.
Now I realize that Tuesday would just become that dreaded day, but let’s pretend it wouldn’t, because I dont want to write another paragrapabout that.
Giving Meals to the Hungry
Every night, you save a portion of your meal and ship it to an assigned far-away, food-deprived county based on where your neighborhood is.
It would all be funded by the government, so you wouldn’t have to pay money to ship anything.
The boxes would be special, like mini refridgerators/coolers, so your food wouldn’t spoil.
All the workers who help ship the boxes are paid extra.
I think I just solved world hunger.