From A Frustrated Child...

It’s always do this, or do that!

There is constantly work to do once I’ve sat.

What happened to all my prayers and wishes,

And why do I have to do the dishes?

I wake up on a pleasant Sunday morning,

Lazily stretching and yawning.

But the ghastly prospect of cleaning the bathroom,

Is enough to make me rage and fume!

“Clean your room” or, “Take out the trash!”

Is all it takes for my teeth to gnash.

And surely many of you can see,

It always has to be me.

Not my pesky, quarrelsome brother,

Or anybody other.

And to all my comrades in arms worldwide,

We cannot let this atrocity slide.

We will raise our voices as we are awfully riled.

Sincerely,

From a Frustrated Child.