Poem: Regarding the 10:00 PM Flip Out

Regarding the 10:00 PM Flip Out

He’s mad at me 
as mad can be.
He whines and frowns
and stomps around—
pretends to cry
as if to die.
“But it’s not fair!”
the kid declares. 

“I don’t wanna!
I was gonna
play my music,
games, and the switch!”
Falls to the floor,
breathes in, then roars,
“But it’s not fair!”
As if I care.

As if I was
the only cause
of mankind’s need
for frequent sleep. 
Biology
don’t come from me
It isn’t fair
I’m standing here 

mopping up boy
who has a ploy
to act real sad
so I’ll feel bad
and let him stay
up late today. 
“No, it’s not fair,”
I softly swear. 

Do I have to
stay up now, too?
I don’t want to;
I was goin’ to
be alone, read
and watch TV. 
No, it’s not fair,
but that’s not rare. 

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