The Drive Home

On the drive home, I wrote a poem in my head. No really....I did. Right after I ate a cheeseburger. Irrelevant.

I don't know what KIND of poem it is, per-say....but one of my stalkers (ahem *Ape-face*) might begrudgingly comment as to the type of poem due to her obligation in being so well-educated on such things....I wanted to call it a haiku but I am pretty sure they don't rhyme....though, I really didn't pay attention during the poetry part of English class  I mean...It's just been a long time since I have thoroughly studied poetry.

Regardless, I am truly only posting it here because it's possible some of you out there can relate to my sentiments...and feel this way, too, sometimes, on the drive home...

*Clearing throat*

My vision is cloudy,

I can't see straight.

Can't you understand

There's too much on my plate?

You pull and you pull

So many different ways.

And nervously, I oblige.

How I long for your praise.

And in all things I do,

I really WANT to be great.

But don't you see?

There's JUST too much on my plate.