Dinner

I’m stressed I haven’t done my work.
I’m caught in catching up with it.
I’m working over dinner plate.
I’m trying to get done with it.
I’m irritated that you speak.
I’m irked that you are calling me.
I’m sure you are the reason why
I’m so behind delivery.
I’m not your little kid, okay?
I’m vexed you look concerned for me.
I’m in control, yes, on my own.
I’m done with all your sympathy.
I’m quick to focus all the rage
I’m storing up inside of me.
I’m quick to say I feel ashamed
I’m born into this family.

%d bloggers like this: