Countdown

I feel like a piece offering

Even tempered, shackled, slaved

I can't blow a sigh

Without you glaring at me

And I can't look into my future

Without you staring coldly at my shoulder

With him, it's expected

He's the teenager;

Newsflash: so am I.

But me, no, I'm not allowed.

I do it all for you

And yet you never seem to care

I'm tired of it all

Being who you want me to be

Silent, submissive, a passing shadow

Who do you want me to be?

Paint me a picture;

Draw me a sketch;

Write me a story.

Color the outlines that are black and white

Why do you think I never seem to run to you?

Pent up anger, sadness; emotion

Why do I have to be this way at home?

I don't want to be this way

'Cause this isn't me

I'm free, happy; flying, soaring

I want your attention

But I won't ask; it seems selfish

So I'll wait; I'll be patient

And when I'm gone

I don't think I'm coming back

Let the countdown begin.