As a girl I would smile and hide
I was shy
As a grown woman my shy is now what I've learnt
I've mastered the art of passive aggression
you can read my mind through the sarcasm
can't you tell that my rolling eyes are telling you to stop
don't you know when I walk away I'm begging you to come after me
on addendum to my art I've also got the gift of tears
I'll shower my face at any slight
I'll let my eyes diamond flow at any price
this woman doesn't know how to tell you any truth
because I was raised to sit down and shut up
to bow at your feet
but whatever it doesn't matter
it's up to you?
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
