Strut
EIGHTH grade.
Mangled in prepubescence
Angst, anger and ambition
The suit for adolescence
Invincibility were my tweens
The strut of a queen
Slung on my shoulder with a string
At my waist swung my favorite CDs
NWA, A Tribe Called Quest and Public Enemy
A mellenial body siezed by the 80s
Instead of bread and butter
I fed on musical poetry
In distress
In confusion
In happiness
In excitement
Calling me to my feet
They eased any disease I couldn't treat
In the face of animosity
They spark my tenacity
Everytime I play their tape
I strut like I'm in the eight grade
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: