My name and I look
A moment ago, I was twelve years old
Shy, meek, mousy
the opposite of bold
Delicate, little petal
I took everything to heart
letting words quite literally
tear me into parts.
My name and I look
I always took the hook
Mocking cruelty, I was shook
‘You’re not special, you’re average’
cutting deep
lies ingrained
Leaving toxic stains
on the receptors in my brain
Wry jokes, fire stoked
drowning deep
in feigned disdain
Raining
hard enough to soak and stew
like you were trying to brew
a new and better you.
Green-eyed, vicarious slither
underhanded stuck in quicksand
blind in both eyes and
one soul, not whole
parts and bits, some that didn’t fit
with mine. I needed time
to see it and get lit
up in twisting curls of red, not ignoring
but understanding instead.
Blazing a trail
rather than being led
Opening up like a new bud
instead of
lying down and playing dead
It’s been said
I
talk to much
am always wrong
am always stuck
am not that strong
Well darn.
Glasshouses LOOK tough
but hey
throw those stones
From my 2018 self-published chapbook, ‘First You Have To Suck Out The Poison’
Listen to me read the poem here :
