Tiger Mother in a Black Box by Anika Meisel (18, Washington)

I stood in that black box
Watching as the girl’s fingers 
Flew like birds in a flock
On her violin. 
Like they didn’t want to linger. 

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Her mother came in,
Begging her to go faster
So one day she‘d be concertmaster
And she started again. 

It was only a scale,
Her fingers went up and down
And mine, I knew they would fail. 

I became worried
And the girl’s tempo turned hurried 

​For his mother screamed and cried.