My neighbors turn their music up 300 watts to high

By
More by this author
My neighbors turn their music up 300 watts to high,
And the onions in the kitchen are beginning to make me cry.
The laundry always seems to be full of dirty clothes,
And the coldness of the pool is always nipping at my toes.
The way that people crunch their food makes me want to hurl,
And that know it all in math class, she is one annoying girl.
The hot tub is always turned on high a few degrees too hot,
And when I have to clean my room, I’d really rather not.
Listening to the oldies, mom lease give me a break,
When she undercooks my food especially my steak.
My computer always seems to be running 90 seconds to slow,
And then my mother is yelling at me “HEY TI’S TIME TO GO!”
Fingers across a chalkboard, up and back again.
Great! I can’t find it, my favorite purple pen.
Gross what is that smell, my socks or moldy stew?
Sticky gunk around the sides of one-month-old Ragu.
The squeaky sound of pencil lead racing along the lines,
The way the hot warm summer is sending sweat down my spine.
The taste of yucky glue on the back of a postage stamp,
The way my fingers feel right now, I think I have a cramp.
It’s really kind of funny what a day it’s been,
And would you even believe, it’s only a quarter past ten.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback