I stand, nervous
Palms sweaty, heart increasing casually,
The red pen drawn,
A weapon of destruction,
To destroy my beauty,
To destroy my perfect world
The red ink circles, underlines, and questions
Why?
How?
Who?
I cave inside
I'm dead, I think
The pen continues it's reign,
It's power is overwhelming
I feel nauseous, my legs quiver
Her eyebrow raised,
She looks onward
Waiting for the pen to strike
I have not deserved it,
This is unfair,
I stand watching my sweet child crumble,
This is my life, this is my dream
All being ruined
Ruined simply by ink encased in mere plastic,
It's almost over
The conclusion is close,
I pray for nothing negative, wrong, or backward
She stacks the papers neatly,
Her work is finished
The pen rests, it has earned it,
Muttering a solemn word, she peers into me
"This needs work"
