The Life of the "Curse"
When I think of my parents... Wow 8 years down the drain. Not even 10. 8. Then I think about the future. Will I even make 5? 10? These are things I stress about at my age. Not the latest gossip. Not about some boy that won't text back. All of that is relevant. Then I think back to a conversation I was eavesdropping on. "Maybe, It's A Curse!" Then laughs it off… but in reality in the pits of my cousin's mind she believes it's true, but doesn't want to admit it to herself. Or Others.. I look around to my first cousin. Not one man in sight! Not one ring in sight! Then I look up to my own.. There were men. There were rings. But there are no more… but why? Then I pose a question. The best question of them all: Whose fault it is? The women or men? And the answer to this question the most scariest answer of all because there is no definite answer. Just explanation.
But I. I refuse to believe this madness. No matter what the picture portrays. No… wait. I lied. The truth is I do believe this madness and this terrifies me the most. Because , at my age, I ,too, have struggled with similar situations. But I've learned to forget about them. But every so often these ideas creep up on me and have me in deep thought about "The Curse"…
Something wrong with this poem?
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 (1)
Log in to leave a comment.