…

childhood remembrances are always

bland

if you’re a middle class White kid like me

Who hasn’t had it so bad

you always remember things like family

parties, or vacations to Maine.

You recall the elementary memories of

blurry Grade School.

Being yelled at for swearing (whatever that

meant)

Sent to the principals deep, starch

visitors chair-

Yeah, I live on a goddamn hill, in a

house that’s nice enough so that people will remark

When dropping me off/picking me up:

“You must be loaded.”

It sticks to me-

I know my father goes out every day and

kills himself to make a living

to maintain the

standard that my family has struggled

for

it’s the terrible misconception that we’ve always had money

I dare people to look at the hands of my father, my grandfather

All the way back

It is the past that I am afraid to fail

the standard that

must be met

Or exceeded

So to all the unfortunate:

I apologize for being White, and middle Class, and whatever else---

Reviews

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

Says so much to me .. i like the apology tho it would seem none would be necessary. Not in this world of today though .. as the father and grandfathers hands show .. you have to work to make it..
Reads a little as if the person is worried about measuring up to his father's and grandfather's standards.

Peace
Chloe

[alesuriko]

It's honest and expressive enough. But it would make a better prose than a poem. Your structure and organization is weak and there isn't much flow to the poem either. It has potential though.