Reviewing my notes,
The night before a test
Checking my grades,
Each week a new best
The teacher's regards,
though that's not what I need
I need you to praise me
For expectations I'll exceed
I hand you my paper
An A+ written in red
There's a frown on your face, though.
My gut feels like lead
Am I not good enough?
Am I not worth your praise?
I'll be better, I swear.
I'll work days upon days.
Please, I'll study more,
I'll be more impressive.
This desire for praise is becoming obsessive.
-
Author:
Ajax (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 18th, 2023 21:47
- Category: Sad
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments2
Thank you for sharing this all-too-familiar yet artfully described mania. If that teacher does not adore your work, please refer them to me! And thanks for keeping me young by your reminders of your own experiences.
PS I adore you grading your own paper in advance. What a brilliant idea!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.