I am a pied piper’s daughter,
curly bangs and gaunt alike,
but I lack the same snuff the sire was made of.
Many I led through the streets,
many I was wont to leave in peace.
But, I am a pied piper’s daughter,
and his will be done.
I chatter, I charm,
I spin miles of yarn.
All the same year round for a long time.
Women, men, the young were best,
I did it all at his behest.
I am the pied piper’s daughter,
and his will be undone.
My pipe has long since rusted,
my voice box soon to be busted.
My charm’s all but dried up.
I’ll never be the same snuff,
so I’ll stop being, thinking, and existing.
That I am, and will forever be known, a pied piper’s son.
Elizabeth Shelnutt is a college student in the South who has been writing poetry as an emotional outlet since middle school. Their style has become more abstract as they’ve been adapting to the stresses of college life. (twitter.com/toasttotheroast)