Some young man is scratched up
They don't wonder why because
He is precisely the person who
Does not seem to belong in this particular classroom
Which is kind of like me
I do not quite understand the kids in "AP"
Advanced Placement, that is
It's a class for adolescents who
Think that they should have the privilege to
Rule our ******* ***** someday and I don't get that ******* so I just write poetry instead
How I feel when you say
To me it hurts so much
Bloodsuckingly good intentions
I pull out all of the foreign angsts of past lives
You are forgiven
But not forever
Because you'll die
No greed left in your bones
Maybe some sarcasm, definitely irony
But none of that consumerist ****
Nothing you had
Not people either
Your life's worth... nothing
My anger wasn't *******
It was sane
smiles are contextual
smiles aren't something I do very often
but, occasionally, i'm looking for everything and nothing
and i see it in the way her hips sway when she walks
And I Hate That.
I Never Did That.
and now i'm smiling.
you think i'm lying?
later i'll be crying.
why isn't she dying?
Isn't That What We Do?!
the brick walls surround me
the depression's mounding up, here!
I Am Not One Of Those Pigs
but sometimes you've gotta find something to feel good about ****
**** ***** up
Knock knock knock
The girl's made of glass
Her world's made of twigs
When you knock-knocked
The damage that it did
She doesn't like the Kit-Kat
She doesn't like your cat
She doesn't like the government,
the business, the school, the tax
She has a few cute things she likes
She likes herself sometimes
But a little girl with crazy views
Make me want to shove your fist in your mouth, because I don’t care about your epic or what you’ve earned. You’re a kid. Just a kid,
Defined by a definition of artificiality, there’s a smile over a brand that you sell and you sell it good. I never would; you never should.
A crowd and
With my looks and my humor. You’re not some gift from god, and if you are I’m more so. But I’m a female and I’m a lab rat. It’s all I’ll never be.
What a kid
What a hoax
Your eyes are oval and your mouth is oval, like some plastic doll. I hope you live like them, all the sheep and they never laugh ‘cause they never fall.
Matter of fact
You’re happy dead
Can’t you accept that the world isn’t shaped by those who can say, “You think too much”; the monkeys in their suits who are in such a rush, the people in their cage.
It’s not about us being different from one another
It’s not even about me being different from you
I make the world while you go in play in it, or I mess it up
Because you are the world
and I’m just a human, I’m just a girl
Isn’t it ironic?
That you were the trouble maker
I was the good girl
You were once alive
Now you’re a lie
You’re just one lie
You just want them and you just want they
But that’s it
Its just it
The world pays attention to all of your ****, just like they do with sitcoms and trash tabloids. It’s so awful. And you don’t respect me for being a human being.
But I’m something
I’m everyone’s rage and somewhere deep where they care
you just care about your picture on a chatroom
with bad music taste
and tight legs and a tight, but
I’m your only black mail
I am the black sheep
and I think
You’ll be that celebrity’s unknown brother; I promise
You are stay-in-the-line
You are achieve-in-school
You are parrot-the-teacher
You’re an individual, so I know that you can do as well as them,
because you’re unique
You can be just like them
just as good as them
You are buy-these-too
You are create-your-self
You are mimicking-the-6-foot-model
You’re one of a million, so how about you pick one of these six lipgloss flavours,
because it’s you
You can pick one of these
support the institution with your you-ness
You are corporate-climber
You are defining-your-strengths
You are do-it-for-the-raise
You’re indispensable to this project, you as you as you as a subordinate
because you’re important
you can get where you want in life
if you smash a few heads as you climb
The reality slips away;
"don't lose your mind," she pleads,
Does she think that somethings wrong with your fantasy?
Everything you hold so dear and grasp so tight, it's just as stable as the night.
Ideals are like a battle scar; the stories change but not where the settings of the battles are.
Dogma changes or stays the same, rhetoric is like play dough shame, but in my gut it feels all the same.
The facts you spout are just in time.
The world changes without reason or rhyme.
The gods you hold like a golden chain don't even sway the game.
The people who look to the light are people, that's why they hold the sight-
the stories they tell to find what they mean, but they were out of breath and they had a dream.
The lights aren't real, but it's all the same. We all try to feel something called love, whatever we've seen.