Author's notes: Don't ask why I write poetry, I don't even like it

Author's notes: Don't ask why I write poetry, I don't even like it. But my muse beats me with a feather duster until she deems it worthy. Ugh…damn feathers. No, I don't own HP (just the books) or even make money off of this. For if I did that suck ending wouldn't exists. This is therapy for my twisted mind. So now the lawyers can back off.

Rebellious want

I have watched you grow

From a insufferable pole of a swot

With untamable hair, beaver teeth and seeking mind

To a alluring wonder of curls, sweet smirks and intelligence

I have stood in the shadows

Seeking, no silently demanding your destruction

For you have made me questions my father's beliefs

You whom are not worthy of the very air I breathe

You whom have charmed all those around you

They believe you to be a princess of miserable heritage

As if the very title of princess is worthy of you

Such a weak title that it is

You're cunning, ambitious and daring, traits only that of a pureblood

You and your kind taint my world

You question our beliefs, demand more than what you are worth

You dare me want more that what is possible

Yet do not smirk in mockery or pity me at my failures

your gaze holds understanding instead of judgment

Such a wretched creature you should be!

You whom are the very essence of what my bride should be

You whom make me question my father's beliefs