Don't keep me in a certain way I'm alongside the jostle of flight and fury
Don't keep me in a certain way Such that maroon felt books lined like maps in highbrow mahogany shelves feel like my skin
Don't keep me in a certain way Such that pink, frills, tea and scones Labor me prim and proper A stranglehold to the lady that I am not
Don't keep me in a certain way Such that stern conveys me As it does the hands of your other slaves (Your perception does not enslave me either)
Don't keep me in a certain way Such that the course to my vitality and "I" do bore me terribly (it is starting to weather so)
Don't keep me in a certain way Such that notebooks with lines Become tyrannical and pretentious To my sloppy written chops (they go everywhere)
Don't keep me in a certain way Certain, certain (everything is) It goes against me Make me its enemy Because I'll never be a certain way
Surprise! surprise! (Maybe not) when your poem title totally does not relate to the content. But I lpved how this turned out. As what that critic said, I am most probably shopping for my writing style, experimenting, writing crap, reading crap whatever. This is the most polite in-your-face poetry I can do.
I hate being told what to do. I'd rather be wrong in front of so many people than go against what I am. (Too tired of tolerating people's ****. I used to be an adaptable person because I was too lazy to argue or could just hardly give any **** but people like me have limits too. The number of times I wanted to slap people but held it in—cannot be counted)Cheers thanks. I am ******* happy I'd get to write even if it's just one poem as it gives me an immense sense of relief for finishing a draft like something from inside me has finally escaped and I can breathe lol. Feeling strangely stable.