American Family Poem by Raj Dronamraju

I felt uncomfortable in the artificial wood panels of the family homestead
When a daughter speaks to her parents in the voice of a phony good girl
Yelling from outside the bedroom to the kitchen
She knows how to use bad acting not to arouse suspicion

But these are not doting parents
They are themselves disconnected children of selfish eternal teenagers
The overworked undersatisfied expectors of equality of advantage
They live in a state of perpetual aggravation
Even more so when self-predicted good times don't rain down from the sky

When a son speaks to his parents
It's through sullen mumbling and the resulting offense taken at mistranslated anger
The spoiled anger of a teenager catered to instead of discouraged
If he breaks out into a violent shuffle, dysfunction will call the tune

Perversion of family roles will confuse independence and selfishness
The older generation will take turns repeating "What are you bothering me for? "
When the parents die, the younger generation will fall over each other laying claim to their belongings
Toadstool larvae bred from the compost of a dying culture's self-interest