Untitled Poem
I just found this poem I wrote back in high school, c. 2001. I’m kind of impressed with my past self.
And oh
I forgot
That all poetry
Must mimic
Sylvia Plath in
Its entirety.
Death! Worms!
Darkness! Disease!
There,
The great goddess Plath
Is appeased.
It appears to be expected of my hand:
Nay, it’s accepted if my hand
Is oft depressed, and if
My depression has sway?
And oh, am I to record at last
Each experience, each trespass
That happened within the stony
Halls of school today?
Though while I can see that they are aching
I am loath to start forsaking
Rules of grammar, rules of conduct
From the Victorian masters-o-scopic;
But I will say this of all
I have witnessed in this hall:
And that’s that some depresséd teens
Need some newer topics!