Blue Eyes

To be your child.

What would it mean to be your child?

Would you still be proud?

And when they refuse to treat me right, 

Would you stand up and be loud?

A kid simplified and broken down

Reduced to a microphone in their hand,

The notes that leave their lips.

This child is more than this.

“You are my daughter”

Every Day I sit

In a spine-crushing chair.

And I’m not sure how I take it,

The nicotine in the air

Do the others even care?

I’m shaking in my chair.