Penelope

When you are growing up in a house 
Where successful mom and dad 
Are successful too at screaming 
At each other constantly 
And the people outside walk 
Up to them at fancy parties 
With big smiles and these 
Strange attitudes as if 
They are ready to bow 
You want to scream. 
You want to make some noise. 

When you grow up in a neighborhood 
Where the police throw your high school friends up 
Against fences and search them for drugs 
Because they hang out in a dark park 
And hate the mall 
When your sweetheart 
Throws bricks through car windows 
At four in the morning 
Sixteen and wild and out of control 
Like he can only be calmed when you kiss 
You want to scream 
You want to make some noise 

When dad says 
No more hanging out with those people at the park 
And at eighteen you have to start over 
With new friends 
The worst part knowing that 
It’s probably for your own good 
Because they are getting too wild 
Too wild 
Burning up in their own freedom 
You want to give up 
Before finally finding out 
About this thing called music 
Oh you have heard of it before 
Hints 
Odd appearances 
On the AM Radio 
But no 
This is music! 
Your dad’s old record collection 
Oddly enough 
You used to not have anything to talk about 
Things are different all of the sudden 
Getting along 
With your brothers and sisters 
Such a big family 
Now everyone says 
Penelope 
Penelope 
You have blossomed 
And the strangers have big fake smiles for you 
Too 
Still 
There’s this 
Cruel 
Undeniable sadness 
Crawling under your skin 
Your life is falling into place 
But it feels like it’s falling apart 
Too 
You want to scream 
You want to make some noise 

There’s a weight 
On all of you growing up 
Some expectation to be met 
Instead of being like them 
You try to find yourself 
What they do not tell you 
Is how dangerous it can be 
It’s like swimming in 
The deep end of the ocean 
With berserk waves 
Threatening to sink 
Your tiny ship 
Don’t know where you are going 
Or even why 
You just know 
You could drown in all the mystery 
And misery 
Any second 
Oh dear 
You’re the tortured artist of the family 
It becomes obvious after college 
Oh, she wants to move out 
Let her, let her 
They love you 
Of course, of course 
Unfortunately they can’t understand 
At least they let go 
Instead of holding on 
She joined a band? 
That’s nice 
Wacky Penelope 
You feel it 
You want something from them 
Respect? 
Maybe, hard to know 
You want to scream 
You want to make some noise 

Bang those drums 
BAM BAM BAM 
This role feels so natural 
And yet accidental, too 
Why can’t your life make any sense? 
Though sometimes sensibility scares you 
You don’t know what you want 
Other than sticking your 
Yes 
Successful! 
Rock and roll career 
In the family’s face 
You talk with strangers all the time 
You figure maybe someone out there has an 
Answer 
So why not be open to conversation?

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About mw2828

I am a writer currently working out of the New York area. https://mythandmist.wordpress.com/ View all posts by mw2828

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