Elocution

• Anya Maclure, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2017

It all started one day,
With a swipe of an inky pen and
an obnoxiously loud mouth
There I was sitting, head high up,
absent-minded as usual
Only surrounded by close-minded,
materialistic people
Who cared solitarily for what the next
person thought of them.
I was not like this.
Or so I thought.
Noise and sounds blurred around me
And this was perfect
Until she said it wrong
Of all the days
And all the ways
Today took the cake
Why did she not even try?
What made her do that?
Well my friend…
Of all the things she could say wrong,
She said my name.