Perks of being a wallflower poem

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines,
He wrote a poem
And he called it “Chops”
Because that was the name of his dog
And that’s what it was all about.
His teacher gave him an A
And a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
And read it to his aunts.
That was the year Father Tracy
Took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
With tiny toe nails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X’s
And he had to ask his father what the X’s meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines,
He wrote a poem.
He called it “Autumn”
Because that was the name of the season
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
And asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
Because of its new paint
And the kids told him
That Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometime they would burn holes.
That was the year his sister got glasses
With thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
When he asked her to go see Santa Clause
And the kids told him why
His mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
When he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook,
He wrote a poem
And he called it “Innocence: A Question”
Because that was the question about his girl
And that’s what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
And a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
Because he never showed her.
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
Of the Apostles’ Creed went
And he caught his sister
Making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
Or even talked
And the girl around the corner
Wore too much make up
That made him cough when he kissed her
But he kissed her anyway
Because that was the thing to do
And at 3 am he tucked himself into bed,
His father snoring soundly.

That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag,
He tried another poem
And he called it “Absolutely Nothing”
Because that’s what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
And a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
Because this time he didn’t think
He could reach the kitchen.