PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My eyes are blank as i stare back at you,

Tuning out your endless words.

Knowing you're explaining things you think need to be explained.

They don't. But I look at you and pretend to listen anyways.

You assume that for some reason, that because I get good grades in schoold

That I must love being there and everything about it.

I don't. I do things for me too yah know.

Or maybe you don't know that, but you should.

Like cleaning the house,

It has nothing to do with how much you appreciate it.

Instead it's because I know you won't.

Or that your "eventually" will take too long.

I'm suffocating right now, I can't wait.

Somehow you think that because I can conveniantly forget things,

I need to be reminded...twenty times.

Or that if you keep saying things over again,

I'll suddenly change to do things your way.

You seem to believe that I don't know right from wrong.

That if you don't constantly tell me not to do drugs,

I'll suddenly become a druggie.

You seem to think that by repeating things

You can make up for what you failed to teach.

But I already know these things,

For me it's not too late,

Maybe you should go have a talk with him.

Because for him...it is.

Experiance is my teacher, even if it is second hand.

Maybe greater than you'll ever know.

So while you drone ceaselessly on,

Know that I nod and stay put for a reason,

A reason having nothing to do with you.

A reason of my own.

Know that I can distinguish right from wrong, good from bad.

That my sense of morals isn't because of what you tried to teach me,

And they aren't damaged beyond repair as you seem to think.

Instead they are perfectly fine,

Especially because I didn't let you make or alter them at all.