She is always Right...

Location

Mrs. Right held my essay

The one I worked on for days

She slashed through it with her bloody sword

Declaired my words dead

Claimed that they made no sense

 

What she saw were plain words

Black on white

But she failed to see

The meanings they conveyed

The thoughts I intended

 

She never gave me a chance

To show what I mean

She never tried to see

And tramped on my endeavor

 

Who said she could judge

With her standard

Who told her to look

With colored lenses

 

She calls my diction wrong

I prefer different

My eye see a different world

My brain interprets a different meaning

But she's Mrs. Right

Only she gets a say

 

So there goes my grade

Another piece of my work

Another piece of me

Thrown into the dungeo of 'F'

Like a piece of worthless crap

 

 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741