oh my stomach! my heart! my chest! 

oh it aches, it aches so it does!

forcing pizza down my throat at a table of my enemies and my best friends.

i hurt, i am screaming at them. 

my eyes, cant you see the pain in them!

am i not as poetic looking as i seem inside my own head?

i wasnt raised by poets, or ones that believed they were.

i always wished one day i would find an album of unrecorded music, 

titled to me. 

titled with my name and my date of birth,

and the lyrics would devote their lives to me.

 

OH MY HEART! 

it would say,

MY BEAUTIFUL LOVE, MY DAUGHTER OF MY LIFE.

they would lament, 

BORNE FROM ME LOVED BY MANY,

i wish.

 

but my dad left his dreams of art school behind to apprentice, 

and my mothers journalistic notions dropped when nursing school looked her way.

and i love them, i am told they are talented writers, and painters.

i never see that side of them. 

one day i wish i were the least dramatic in the family,

not so i fade away, 

but so i know that the poets who raised me are actual poets and not just parents. 

i hope its not too selfish to ask.