***
11/13/18
____
I have no time for this
She thinks,
As her parents,
Siblings,
Even their pet dog,
Laugh and share food
Watching a movie from the
Dreaded television.
A distraction, she grumbles,
Her school books in her arms.
I have a report due tomorrow
I have a group project no one has started
I have three assignments due in two days.
Expression pinched,
Eyes pursed,
She stands to leave
But her mother calls out to her.
"Darling,
Where are you going?
We haven't finished the movie."
She sounds so confused
So oblivious,
Her daughter laughs mockingly.
"Mom, I'm busy.
School is more important
Than an overrated film."
Her older brother gives her
A look of surprise.
Why should he be shocked?
Hadn't he gone through this
At her age?
"Sis, all work and no play
Isn't good."
She shakes her head.
He's a fool.
"Brother, you should know
How stressful school is,
How the lessons go--
You're already in college," the girl states
Says it matter-of-factly
As if that's that.
Now her older sister's eyes are wide.
"But sis, you're only nine."
The younger looks petulant. "So what?"
"You're only nine once," Her siblings clarify
Worry for their sister blatant.
"Relax for a while," her father adds,
Looking at his youngest
Whose stressed,
Almost depressed,
Expression makes her seem the eldest.
She declines,
Her grip tightening on her books
I have to study.
Can't they see?
I need to study
So I can get good grades
And have a bright future.
Don't they want that?
She ponders, unsure.
"Sweetheart,
You're only young once," Her mother says.
"It's good to see you're trying
Trying your best
But your best
Might be your worst.
Please relax,"
Her family waits for her words.
She blinks
She doesn't smile
Because she's had her decision for a while.
They don't understand me
"I have to study--
I don't want to fail,"
She turns
And leaves them
To their movies
And their laughter
Because she knows
That they are wrong.
She is not wasting her life
Because she is preparing for one.
YOU ARE READING
Neon
Random(SOMEHOW, REGULAR UPDATES) A collection of poems, short stories in poetic form, rants hidden in poetic form and other things that pop up in my head. *** Staring at the canvas, She chose to pluck a brush From her own head, And paint with the colours...
