13 May 2012
Awkward silence, I'm dressed to impressed. Ironed my dress, Tresses all tressed.
They stare at me over the table, You're not one of us, Makes me feel unstable.
I smile politely wondering who'll speak next, My hands are sweating, I'm getting perplexed.
Finally I'm grilled over our dinner, Ambitions, job, qualifications, Am I a winner?
I doubt I am as I look to my food, No one will ever be good enough for your fussy brood.
Opuss № I