(2014)
Would I rather be A younger me? More productive Stronger Would i have to give up
When I think of my mom I think of malt o meal muffins When I think of my dad Memories of a child Chasing us around the circle
Don’t talk down to me I am not a child! Even children Deserve respect
The ugliest shade Of green We envy The car The job
I am unique In so many ways But while variety excites What we look for Is our common thread
I love to hear poetry read Rather than performed I love to hear each word Appreciated Rather than memorized
I cannot apologize For writing what I feel inside If it is hard to read It is harder to live I will understand
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
The more you treat me like a nag The more I become one I’m sorry if I micromanage Your clean clothes Your hot meals
A family trait Massage Is our vice No shame Take what
Her fingernails Natural Long Pointed On fingers
Desperate for his attention Knowing it will drive him away Jealous of a game - how lame Choking self-esteem where I lay Desperate for his affection
Stubbed toe Red light Ugly words Ugly mouth To shock
Ask any female Love Is in the details I love you Three greatest words
I will be Forever in debt To my mother Any gift Would come up short