I’m torn apart
Like a sheet of paper.
Ripped to shreds
As I try gluing the pieces back together.
“I’m proud of you” my parents say,
But how can they be proud?
I’m weaker than paper,
But built from something stronger than wood.
It’s like I am the next graded test
Waiting for the shredder’s next appearance.
I’m just waiting for that student,
The one that takes pride in a bad grade.
“F” as in fabulous,
Am I right?
I’m just a dood tryna figure myself out. I write about shows, movies, the LGBTQ+ community, Pop Culture, and my original fiction work!!