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My mother once told me
That I was more myself in writing
Than I was out loud
I'm sure she is as well
But she won't let me read her stuff
So I guess we'll never really meet

My Grandmom wanted to be a writer
But had a strict professor
Who told her that she was no good
So she became a social worker
Read while driving for lack of time
And eyed my notebook knowingly

Her mother had a column
About life on the farm
And read my mother poetry
She wrote about their donkeys
And when she tells me this
Her eyes light up with joy

If I'm to be a writer, too
I will be a loud one
Because I have seen the words
Trapped behind my mom and grandmom's eyes
And also watched them spill out
With a poem about donkeys

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mereCatThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jun. 12 at 2:33 am:
stunning :)
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