All Poetry
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Why are you so mean to us? The three children that are yours You’d sworn you’d be the best for us An impossible, boring chore Unless, you can make us work Earning our own keep Taking care of poor old you And your breaking back, you’d think You are only 34 years old You able-bodied manYou have the ability to work And pay
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Reminiscing about the crowded hallsNavigating a world so unknownI cry quietly in Grandma’s bedroom I’d be better off alone These kids know what is in and outPlacing me into a box I can’t see Labeling it with their judgements Slapping them on top of me Rather than join the crowdI grow appreciation for my new surroundings It beats being
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Understanding the market Dad envisioned something more If we had extra kids again It could explode as it did before Welcome a brand new family With five children of their own Needing to make an impression We deep clean our tiny abode Desperate for real friends We are happy to oblige Allow us a bit of happiness We will peacefully stand by Two days
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Holding a credit card feels surreal For this I can seeA tangible symbol of Dad’s possibilities It’s subtle weight carries a sort of prestige Stark contrast to my immediate surroundings Lining my finger along its sides I carefully lay it flat, admiring the font typeIt represents a future, one I can see Maybe we will live in a house One where
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His eyes met mineI glared inside Of his putrid soul That’d been caught This wasn’t a dream As real as could be Those damn snakes Were his hands on me Fuming, I hissed, “get away” Wanting to rip off his face Pains me to know he lives in Dad’s glow A perfect child who owns his embrace While I wrestle and write For a
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Laughing makes us free On this crisp October night Gathered round Mom’s birthday cake Giggling to her 37th candle’s delight Craving our grandparents warm hugs Their genuine love, support, and grace It’s unnecessary to impress them They love us no matter what we face Needing his in-laws validation He’s a good father, they need to knowHis kids are busy learning Not only selling
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Your ignorance is showing I cannot read your mind How was I supposed to know You couldn’t work after a suicide? Speak up my delicate flowerAgain, I cannot read your mind You’ve made me into a monster With these steady tears you cry Your needs are complicated It’s different with the boysGirls have explosive emotions We prefer to bottle up and avoid
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Step one, gather your crew of kids Step two, teach them its ok to fib Step three, pack up their things and go Step four, leave them in front of grocery stores Step five, keep them stocked with goodsStep six, count the money, keeping the score And that’s it Don’t let people figure out what you do For if anyone
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The world is our stage We are born to make a scene Whether it is good or bad Simply follow in my lead Be sure you are well behaved Make them notice me and say What an amazing Dad you are Your children sit still and pray Always say, “Yes sir or ma’am” It must be obvious you see That being a part
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Living amongst the shadows Of other children needing more An unexpected comfort Allowing me to explore Once your spotlight found me I felt nervous to my core Rather than show fear I’d paint a smile, my cheeks sore Fragments of my reality Disguised by your playful insanity You’d joke, we’d laugh, follow along The truth hidden within this cacophonous song Not once do I
Sarah Lopez 