Give me a unisex name,
my soul’s a fickle, fortified thing,
my spirit’s blue with happy pink eyes.
I get so tied up in the ugliest knots
so I just shut down and become
gender neutral.
Tell it in a letter:
I hate myself.
And that’s the thing,
I can’t straight myself!
I’m a crooked parasol
that was to shade my eyes
from the blinding sun
and that’s the thing,
I can’t see a damn thing!
past the run-of-the-mill
air-conditioned trap-house
set up for the megalomaniacs
to rape the shit out of my soul,
so I yell! and do some self-harm,
maybe a little suicide
next time. Who knows?
To get me through, dear,
only necessity permits.
I dream of living in isolation
in the woods with trees for company
because whenever I get
the urge to wail,
not a damn soul will care
but the birds.