Note: I may be late with the news, but I recently heard about the upcoming TV series for The Flash and it brought back memories from when I was a kid. You can blame the birth of this poem on that.
Expectations
Five year old me
Was notoriously known
As the slowest eater
In the neighborhood.
Truthfully?
I was misunderstood.
It took no less
Than a couple of hours
For me to empty my plate.
(That is, if I actually ate).
Needless to say,
Frustration drew
A few premature wrinkles
On my mother's face.
For my rehabilitation
My mother would sit me
Before our television
And we would watch
That 90's Flash movie.
She'd tell me to act just as fast
As the superhero in the red suit
With a set of wings on his ears
And lightning bolts on each boot.
The Flash is the no doubt
The fastest man alive.
He's always in a rush,
And leaves people eating dust.
Worst of all, he wolfs down
His cereal in milliseconds.
Mom, I complained out loud
Although the Flash is awesome,
Making all the villains cower
How can I act like him
If I have no superpowers?
YOU ARE READING
Patchworked
PoëzieThis collection is a catch-all for pieces that don't quite fit anywhere. Prepare yourself for some nonsense in poetry form.
