Contempt, the lonely visitor, knocked thrice one fine day

I recognized the knock, one from age old

               rhyme and rhythm 

Contempt, now a stranger from distance made

               lengthy, divisions, divisions…

I learned from divisions,

               Twas possible contempt had a good change of heart

               One bird alone, I thought with one stone

Could I return to her beated, thorned bed?

               Oh, no, how ridiculous. I’d rather be dead.

Hate, hate, hate: the one thing I hate

               more than contempt as of late,

I loathe it, I loathe, and I dread every day

               When I become someone I thought lost away

And though contempt lives on the doorstep, I fear

               More the creature who lives by my side, ever near

No more! I ought to gouge out my own eyes

               To never again see that hateful surprise!

Knock. Knock. Knock.

               Come in as you like!

               Come in have some tea,

               if only to beat down

               the demon in me…

But she was not there— though alas, I had hoped

               to see an old friend, have a laugh, share a joke

Of course, I remembered, contempt wants no friend,

               no welcome, no sharing, no care, no mend

               to old quarrels, and above all— no laughter,

               No, the only thing she ever wants is disaster.

By Elyza Tuan ‘23, Editor- in -Chief

23etuan@montroseschool.org