PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The sound of her voice

The way that she walks

The way that she idles

And the way that she talks



The untruthful sound

When her voice rings

Upheavals disrespect

In the lies that it brings



And when she walks

So selfishly proud

Only furthers my dislike

As anger starts to cloud



When she stands

RIGHT in the way

No matter polite asking

She stands there simply in stay



Then the way she talks

So annoying, accent thick

‘Cause she’s been here for years

Why doesn’t the language stick



It all boils down

To a very sting

That pushes my senses

Into a cruel being



Wanting to scream

Wanting to hit

Wanting to kick

An endless fit



Drown her in her blood

Laugh while she screams

Watching her cry

As I fulfill my deepest dreams



Each plight she lets out

Inquiring me, “Why”

I’ll only choke harder

Slowly watching her die



As tears roll down

Staining her face

I can stare deeply back

As I crush with my embrace



In her last moments of breath

Petechial hemorrhaging in her eyes

I reveal happily the reason behind

This climactic death of my despise



How the years of her love

The overprotection in her care

Had finally driven me

To insanity and despair



When she’d wake me up

Despite my protest

To let me wake on my own

She’d still intrude, more detest



“I just want to help”

Yeah right! Are you blind

Many are pissed off

About your “words so kind”



You tense at my driving

Though I’ve proven to you

That I’m not as careless

As you may have thought through



You worry about my grades

You nag at my weight

Then you guilt me into religion

Cause you’re worried of my fate



You try to be helpful

In a tough-love sense

But the truth is, it’s not

Your place for such expense



I have a mother and father

Who birthed me, to take

Their lives a step further

And make a mistake



But no matter how I try

To tell you all this

You simply ignore

And try to reminisce



Of when I was your princess

When I was so innocently sweet

But listen here

The real world I had to meet



I may not be as innocent

As I was years ago

But I’ve grown to be

The young lady whom I show



You don’t listen though

You still treat me cruelly

And you say you see me grown up

But do you notice, truly







Inspired by: Oba (grandmother)

Dedicated to: My angry emotions

Created on: May 21, 2008 - 1002