Free the Frail


I’m turning in my six weeks notice to creating for my parents,

Goodbye, you were suffocating.
I appreciated you when I was small and knew nothing
But now you’re restricting my potential.
But now I need something more suited for my needs.
I plan to go to a college for the Arts.

You’ll grimace while reading this
It’s fine.
I understand.
You'll think I’m throwing everything away.

Maybe I will end up broke,
Peddling 6”x4” canvases on the side of the street somewhere,
But at least I won’t be hunched over a desk,
Scoliosis taunting my spine, blue light scorching my eyes,
In a 6’x4’ cubicle with stains left by the previous owner.

I bid you farewell.”

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem