Mommy,
Grandma looks more and more like the raisins on my snack.
You say she might say funny things,
and act silly. Like me!
But you don't treat her like you treat me,
you yell like a banshee.
She yells too.
Then I yell, but over everything you must not have heard me.  

Mama,
You still have trouble hearing me,
more so with little brother screaming.
Could you please make it stop? I have to study for finals.
I don't think I will pass.
I never told you, but I think I'm too dumb to amount to anything.
Sometimes I'm okay,
because I can't hear myself tell myself that I do not think highly of myself.
I can't hear because of the screaming and crying,
and you telling yourself that you are fat and are going to die.

Mom,
I'm fine.
No I mean it this time,
I have found comfort in the patterns of rhyme.
I yell into cyberspace, but don't make a sound
and I wear my painted smile like a clown.
That reminds me,
You're scared of clowns.
So why did you marry one?