February 13, 2015

Something old,
Something new,
Something borrowed,
Something blue.

My dress was old,
Reused from prom,
I had no gold,
But I had Mom.

My nails were new
What could I do?
My dress was blue,
I used it, too.

My mom was there,
We curled my hair,
We did not care,
It was not fair.

They were not there,
They never showed,
Did not reserve,
Did I deserve

Deserve to be treated
Feel like I'm defeated
Now I'm just seated
I just want to feel needed.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace