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Feb 3
I want you to expect from me
greatness, loveliness, reject
from me the loser I know resides
in my depths, hides behind
excuses of tiredness, fire this
engine with the thrill of
anticipating excellence,
participating in my self-
annihilation of that little girl
who lost sometimes, who tried
for the joy of it, boy did
she fail, but she also had fun,
her sun has set, and risen
in her stead is this high achiever
who rarely tries, buys favor
with lies, savors the rare
moments of feeling special
and tears flesh from bone
the rest of the time trying
to expose herself to more light,
fighting the instinct to go
extinct at first sight of
being a ******* loser. shoes hurt
and waist aches from sculpting
my body to be high stakes,
steak me through the heart
I've become a vampire
leeching off of the validation
of others, salivation at the
thought of turning you on,
without consideration of my
own pleasure, measure me in
victories please, and don't deduct
all my last places, faces that
set in disappointment of my
false anointment, I'm not the
chosen one, I'm just becoming
the unhappiest version of myself,
a ******* of what could have been
would that I had let go of
being a constant one-woman show
that shocks and awes, causes
locks to unlatch and people to
patch me up with ribbons
and medals, if it's not blue or gold
I'm convinced you won't be sold
on me, and I'm constantly for sale,
frail and fettered as I am, I pale
at the idea that I'm too fat
or thin for you, so much so
I forget what I look like, what
I might be if I knew nobody could
see me, how I long for that
invisibility, an ability to
become a ghostly shape,
mostly vapor and smoke that
could choke the insults I've
heard along my way, why did they say
those things to me? can't they see
how fragile I am, not agile, I can't
dodge the bullets of snide remarks
shot my direction, sniped from afar
and bludgeoning me up close
begrudging acceptance from
those I love most, feeling as
much like a wound as the
untarnished truth, my varnish of
youth is fading, too, and soon I
won't have my age to fall
back on, I lack the small
support that keeps me standing and
I've got canes hidden in my coat
to keep me afloat,
to link this boat to the sky,
so I don't sink but don't get too high.
Natalie N Johnson
Written by
Natalie N Johnson  32/F/RI, United States
(32/F/RI, United States)   
101
 
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