Effie Tomaras

I burn in rage.
Trapped, a metaphorical cage.

But this is his stage.
Therefore, I must not cave.

For I am his grandchild,
Carrying on wars wage.

Flooded deeply with confusion.
A new feeling, how strange.

He is hardly listening,
Beyond far from the same page.

I do not bother contesting this time, nor this day.

Instead, I mere vow to disengage.
It seems far easier, at such an early age.

But Father,
On Sunday, when they ask for our change…

Inform the Priest, I am in great great need of burning sage.