Change is Good

Waking up on Saturday mornings for the sole purpose of hearing Elmo squeak about something new on Sesame Street, has long been overruled by new responsibilities. I no longer get to watch, and call my family in to join me, because it's not just me that's changed, its everyone with their busy American lives. It's the way they walk around now and are always leaving out the door. It's the way I dont get the urge to buy from an icecream truck and scream at the top of my lungs. It's in the way that I find myself only available for stressing over school a d frantically applying for scholarships and how I'm forced to sleep in my own bed now with no mommy cradling my face from the night terrors. Waking up and being on my own, my parents already gone to work, the sun in the sky and my feet on the cold hardwood floors of this new ugly apartment, as I listen to the sound of my alarm bleating in the background, I remember the cartoons that were always on TV in Jamaica, how their overly animated voices were like a big blanket on a cold day, pulling me in, comfortable. I remember the kinds of songs that would play on the radio nearly a decade ago that people no longer enjoy, and it makes me sad that time is such an inconsiderate, uncontrollable aspect of life so how am I supposed to believe that Change is good?

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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