Oh online little notebook,
For everyone to judge.

You click and clack, dutifully serving
Their owners unwilling to budge.

With flickering screens,
And dancing fonts,

The normal life, your presence haunts.

For your company, that you keep,
Are false, and shallow, and cheap.

Their lives continue, if yours does not.

All that entertains,

Eventually, will rot.

This one here, why I got it from a Pirate,

He stood with a peg leg and a beard full of knots,
The deck beneath him was littered with hefty dots,
A rather peculiar sight, if I was to be asked,
Which I was, and with that, this eye became glassed!

The one over there, I suppose was from that Siren,

Her skin was blue, eyes a shimmering gold,
Her chest was bare, a sight that the sailors adored to behold,
Excuse me, miss, I inclined my head, "While this is all well and pleasing,"
She clocked my tooth out, when I continued, "In this air, you must be freezing!"

Why that one there, that's from a Queen,

She stood with regal grace and beauty,
Though in my opinion, her dress and manner was rather snooty,
When asked in regards to a task appointed to me,
I informed her that if it was so important, SHE could go water the overgrown tree!

That one there, why that's from a Fairy,

It resided within a nest of glittering gems and jewels,
Each of course, lifted from some wandering fools,
Eyes gleaming with desire and greed,
I soon found those little Fairies are capable of bites to make you bleed!

Over here, you'll see it plainly, is from a Dragon,

It was a plague on the town, its wake of destruction spreading wide,
With grasping claws and snapping teeth, it gobbled up my bride,
I hunted it where it slept, and moved to strike it dead,
And with that, I lost my head!

Stitch me up with words and ink,
Between the pages, let the black sink,
For I am a tale,
One to be told,

Lest I become human and *****.

I am fragile, hold me tight between your pages,
There, I can live for lifetimes, for the endless ages,
Cover to cover, I shall be bound,
Until the next reader comes around,

Never shall it occur to me the words are simple cages,
Lest I become human, and *****.

I'm not.

My Dad thinks I should
be out burning bras
showing off unshaved legs
parading through the streets "like the gays."

I do not.

I remember talking in highscool
about my imaginary rich husband,
and never working again.

                                                My Dad does not.

He remembers panicking in hischool
telling me not to be a cheerleader
asking "why can't girls play on he football team?"

                                  My Dad does not realize,

I don't want to burn my
Victoria's Secret push up bra,
I want to shave my legs.

My dad thinks
the only person who
can decide whether
or not
to keep a baby
is a woman.

I do not.

A baby-life
is created by a
man and a woman.

It should take a
man and a woman to decide.

                               My Dad does not realize it,

He thinks I am a product of
the patriarchy,
a victim to the crime.

but,

I don't want to
march down the streets of Boston,
****.

Because I know some women,
cry **** when its a lie.

I know some men,
who cant cry
for help,
because **** is a woman's issue.

                    My Dad does not realize it hurts,

because
I am not a feminist,
I am an equalist.

I believe in
mutual respect,
choice,
balance.

Stay at home moms
and
Stay at home dads.

   My dad does not realize it hurts the cause to be a "feminist"

My dad is a feminist,
I am not.