PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Crumbling


I live in a house with a white picket fence. My dog adores me. I have a Mom and a Dad. They love each other. I have a brother. He plays America’s favorite pastime. We go to church. We are “normal”. We are “perfect”. We are American. We are the dream. Except, I feel like I live in a nightmare. Skinnier girls are on TV. Prettier girls are on the street. Smarter girls are one locker away. Children are dying. We don’t know who’s next. It may be you, me or my cousin. I live in fear, that one day it will come back. I’m scared. My mother and I haven’t gotten along for over two years. I cry. A lot. I seem “perfect”. I promise you I am. On the outside, it’s a dream. But, on the inside, well..... I’m crumbling.
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.