Home


But I am from Gothic Drive
In a small neighborhood in New York City
A house on a hill with white mailboxes.

A dog always barking
can’t get a good night's sleep.
July 4th is over but the fireworks aren’t.

Loud enough to distract me from my messy room
A clutter of old newspapers and magazines of
tall white girls on my table.

Numerous cups hidden around the room
Clothes that need to get folded
Pictures on the wall that need to be dusted.

Always rushing to school
Scared of running into pigeons
Gotta catch the bus.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem