My summer vacations were colloquially unproductive.

Bathed in boredom,

My father’s endless tries to reach,

The darkest cell of my sunburnt brain…


I had known nothing of nothingness,

No notion of any ulterior aim.

“She won’t make it”

But, I’m trying;

It’s just the numbers are always getting mixed up,

I have no clue of the next step,

I’m just drawn to words – unequivocally.

I need dry leaves to dry my tears,

I need fiction to alter my reality,

I can’t be your daughter.

I’m just not smart enough.

I wish you’d stop trying harder,

I can’t fathom, it’s not in my grasp,

Like you, I don’t have a knack in “maths”

“You’ll be nobody”

I’m a happy nobody,

With my eyes fixed in fantasy,

My days spent in Rome,

I’ll make a writer of myself,

With stories that are my own.

But, stop! No more tears shed on the workbook,

Not another of those graphs, no more “take another look”

I’m beyond your dull numbers.

Let me be with my tales to tell,

Emotions overflowing in every cell,

I need to pen them down.

You can teach me math, science, and history,

I will always have underneath a folded mystery.

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