I live in a classy home, with classy things and classy folk. With o.j. and toast and some eggs without the yolk. A small family get together were no one spoke. With them just staring hoping you'll choke. Seeing all of you're flaws and fears and just poke, poke, poke until i broke. I sit there pretending they all are saying hilarious jokes. Making sure I let a gentle smile out so I don't provoke. Then it all fails when my mother tells them I smoke. To them she's perfect since she gossips as soon as she awoke. Once again no one pays attention or care as I spoke. Sitting here once again hated in my classy home.*
i really like this poem although if your going with a rhyme pattern typically its held all the way through and the tenses ( past, present ) are a little off but other wise i like itlife, is what you choose to make it.
others fake it
[ame=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AoA-ByjIf2M]Lil Jon - Snap Yo Fingers - YouTube[/ame]