Literature
Destroy This Poem
Destroy This Poem
To the person grading this poem
To the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a pen
Waiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor:
Stop it.
Dont Patronize me.
I did not slave over this with hammer and anvil
Shaping it into a masterpiece.
I didnt paint it onto the ceiling of some church,
Going blind from the pain and the stress.
I didnt even turn this in on time.
And while Im writing this in my fifth-period economy class,
You can bet Im not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima.
No, Im concerned with how much water is left in my water bott