Destroy This Poem
To the person grading this poem
To the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a pen
Waiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor:
Dont Patronize me.
I did not slave over this with hammer and anvil
Shaping it into a masterpiece.
I didnt paint it onto the ceiling of some church,
Going blind from the pain and the stress.
I didnt even turn this in on time.
And while Im writing this in my fifth-period economy class,
You can bet Im not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima.
No, Im concerned with how much water is left in my water bottle.
This isnt a masterpiece.
Who are we kidding?
Youre not going to hurt it, and you most certainly arent going to hurt me.
Dont patronize me.
I want you to destroy my work.
I want you to rip it to shreds with sadistic dominatrix glee.
Tear it apart from margin to margin;
Laugh openly at its crippled, struggling body.