sunrise over swamps

sunset over melancholy seas

Poem 5 of 30

on April 6, 2013

I shred myself on the knife-points of ‘shoulds,’

those neat lists of things that I want to be,

and things that I’m supposed to want –

knowing full-well that no one is so simple as to be

able to be reduced to

categories

subcultures

labels, or

insults.

And, yet, it doesn’t stop me trying to break myself on these words

and lists, because

good girls don’t want what I want,

so I must be deviant – or

broken.

Devise the punishments, and define the self-imposed martyrdom

for a cause in which I cannot believe:

all for hoping that it could make me

wanted

worthwhile

accepted, or

noticed.

Tired of the work and effort involved in

forcing myself to be the thing I hate –

as though it mattered that I bow to the pressure

to be someone else.

It’s no mystery that it’s left me empty,

and that I feel

hollow

shallow

decaying, and

dying.

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