By Kiyah E. Roberts I am 13 My brain is fried Headaches and all Because I grew. School is killing me Slowly. My mother is shriveling in every Act she must commit. But stress.is still.digging.our graves. We all have to learn To be patient. Because the one who is always Gone Is the one we miss the most. I’d like to try many new things. But I also have to think about the Family. Surrounding me. But stress.is still.digging.our graves. The little brat with floppy ears and a slobber mouth that lives here For free. Gives us much more responsibility. He runs around like he is crazy. The youngest waits by the door for the missed one to arrive. The oldest dont listen to anyone. They sit on their phones anticipating on replies. And no one but me seems to notice. But stress.is still. Digging.our graves. |
 |
|
|
|