All But A Machine

August 29, 2017
By Anonymous

There is a stage in one's life
from child to adolescent,
where their parents become
to grow far more distant.

It matters not whether your parents are
good or a disgrace;
however no one seems to espect this event
until it blows up in your face.

You usually see it from the teachers.
"Read from page 1 to 53!"
They do not seem to realize
the teenager's true fragility.

Then later on come parents,
following the teacher's lead.
"Do the dishes after dinner."
"But I still have homework!" You plead.
"You'll figure it out, your a smart kid!"
They become your disease.

On and on, you start to fret.
"Someone help me! I'm not a machine!"
Oh how you cry and you plead.
How long must it take, the adults must think,
until they know their only a machine?

You continue to obey and plead,
soon growing numb to the scheme,
You blend into the crowd even more so,
into the teens that believe they are machines.


The author's comments:

This is a blurb I intend to expand on in a later, longer poem, for whenever I get the chance.


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