I wrote a poem long ago As an assignment for class It was the first I was proud of That feeling didn't last It captured something That rarely I'd place An ever-present Mask on my face It was written there Now lost forever A truth I knew Would bring me no pleasure Titled "Masquerade" I thought that was clever Even used three words To put rhyme to those letters It was whole and it was tragic Though I wrote it stone-faced Turned it in, to the teacher With no smile or grace That page was Rumplestiltskin Its lines gave form To thoughts never shared Within my brain's storm The poem was an answer From the hand that wrote it To a baffled 12-year-old Who couldn't control it She gave it back to me Along with an A That I stuffed in my pack And lost the same day
Being the eldest son is tough. You always bear the toughest blows From punishments and such. Parents blame you for everything But thirteen years of it? God.. That's just too much.
Sure, my sibling is cute, Smart, and headstrong too, But they're just such a pain sometimes. If there's anything to remember, It's that they're a selfish, stuck-up brat To the point it should be a crime.
My sibling has ruined my life. If only I just lived alone. That would honestly be great... I wouldn't have to deal with them Or hear another one of their whines While they look at me with hate.
I'd have my parents all to myself. I'd have time to finally relax And have peace like no other... I'd waste my time all day And wouldn't have to share my stuff, But I wouldn't get to be a brother- THAT is reward enough.