To My Teacher

To Mrs. J

A thin, boney excuse of a Mother.
A zap of emotions just like the hairs on her head.
A flash of heat brings anger.
A constant stutter of a one-sided conversation.
Silence brings clarity.
Noise brings chaos with frustrated cleanliness.
Her voice can be soft and gentle.
When it isn't, it's like thunder, in short bursts.
She's like a full bottle,
always overflowing.
Two-faced.
Her eyes are static, and her ears are cotton.
Vague.
Discriptionless.

-Auburn