These poems mean nothing.

I love Tea

I hate tea.

Tea helps me fit in though.

I need to fit in with the rich old southern ladies at this party.

" What are you planning on doing with your life?"

This question is riddled with traps. I have to say something honorable but realistic and I have to be able to find a husband that makes more money than me.

I will be the first one to give up my job when I inevitably have children. I will be a stay at home mother that pretends like life is perfect while I serve meals to my husband who is always sitting on his chair drinking beer.

" Teacher," I respond. It's the perfect southern girl answer. Its honorable and anyone can do it, plus my future husband will definitely make more than me.

They nod and sip their tea. That was the correct answer, it checked all of the boxes.

I sipped my tea and tried to ignore the horrible taste in my mouth.

I sat in lies.

My dress was sown with lies.

My hair is done up in lies.

Perfect southern charm is full of lies.

My fucking tea is boiling over with lies.

" Excuse me." I start to leave. I walked past the restroom. Into the secluded garden.

I take deep breaths.

I have a few tears and then I get back to sipping my tea.

Did I mention how much I hate tea?