My parents didn’t teach me much
only in the omission of official lessons
did I learn anything at all

My black eye taught me to keep quiet
don’t be obnoxious, keep still

My broken toys they said:
“Keep your room clean –
or someone will take it away.”

My dirty school clothes, empty plates
they screamed:
“If you don’t do it yourself, it will never be done.”

So I learned
to keep to myself
and not trust a soul
til I changed my name



Filed under Poetry

3 responses to “63.

  1. J

    There are so many little stories hidden within the whole.

  2. sad poem, hopeful ending.

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