Little Miss Weird
She’s odd; she’s queer.
She’s little miss weird
She catches what no one else hears.
She’s random, or a fox;
She’s so out of the box.
All she does is entirely unorthodox.
She’s unique, a flower;
She’s tall as a tower.
Being an outsider is her superpower.
She’s happy, yet sad;
She’s looking to be glad.
She realizes she needs a comrade.
She preens; she preps
Walks over the doorstep.
She’s hoping she doesn’t misstep.
She’s excited; she chats.
She wears a special hat.
People compare her to a crazy old bat.
She’s rejected; she’s torn.
How the others did scorn
Her manners and looks; she’s a thorn.
She leaves; it’s time to go.
Everyone thinks she’s slow.
At home waves of sorrow overflow.
Drowning in her tears,
She’s little miss weird;
Alone cause she’s what everyone fears.
To Be You
You and I always argue and fight;
Said I never understand right.
The reason why might be outright;
I don’t know what it’s like to be you.
Although I really wish that I do;
Your feelings I’d know, tried and true.
I need to know what’s inside your head
So I can hear the words left unsaid.
So I’ll understand; no break-up ahead.
I beg you make it clear what you mean
I wish for you to just come clean.
You refuse; nothing changes between.
It’s only you and me we need to save.
Come on, and open up; be brave.
If you don’t; we’ll crash like a wave.
But my comprehension you don’t trust;
Because of this we’ve now bust.
You’ll never tell me; we are set to rust.
Because I don’t know how you feel,
We can’t make any kind of deal.
Our relationship we just can’t heal.
If I did know what it’s like to be you,
Our relationship would be new.
I would give us a whole ‘nother redo.
But, you didn’t say what’s in your head.
Now many tears have been shed,
Because now our relationship is dead.
Homeschooled from 3rd grade up, Kenzie is now a 19 year old homeschool graduate from West Virginia. She enjoys writing, especially poetry. She likes to write anything from humorous to dark, or maybe just plain in between. Another passion of hers is animals, with her favorite being felines. Sweets are her Achilles’ heel. If you bring her chocolate or ice cream, or, say, chocolate ice cream, your wish is her command.
Are you a homeschooled poet age 13-19? Would you like Homeschooling Teen to publish your poems? Send them to: firstname.lastname@example.org