Sep 2014
coffee breath, lead stained hands, fingers numbly typing in numbers that have more value than my test scores,
numbers stab like axes cutting down trees that cry in silent screeches in the forest.
numbers like ninety seven, ninety, and eighty two.
numbers that will never define who i am on a college transcript
and these numbers are worth more than who i am in this world, since we are defined by numbers today
even though we made the same mistake in 1939, turning people into numbers by stabbing pigments into their forearms, creating a lesser value for them.
a forty eight is stupid and a fifteen percent is like a hollow head.
i am defined by numbers like fifteen and forty eight and i am told that i should be embarrassed of who i am, or for the number that i am.
and if an equation can't be solved," i'm sorry m'am you cant move on", because your capacity is again,
defined by a number.
i am not a number
i am not the forty eight or the fifteen that scratches the back of my eyeballs like nails filing down a chalkboard.
i am not the one forty five i sleep at when ripping my hair out trying to solve equations of irrational numbers when i should be solving the equations of my irrational thoughts
and everything is turning round and round and round like the infinite possibilities of solutions to equations,
and i go to sleep, and lay my head down as early as possible, but my mind is running in circles with numbers taunting me and defining me and interrupting my sleep.
it is morning now, my mother comes and checks on me to see how i am in this "new wonderful day"
the tiredness seeps through my purple eye bags that i try to cover with tan makeup, and i think about how i really feel in the morning. i stare in the mirror and numbers stare back, i weep as i sit on the floor with the numbers streaming down my eyes, evacuating them from my system, because numbers have made me mentally insane.
there is no hope of numbers leaving because they carry through, even after algebra two,
weight and credit scores, and the amount of money you owe in debt, your mortgage payment, and the amount your retirement fund has swallowed up for your uncertain future,
i am not a number
i am not a number
and i will fight numbers off like the moon controls the tide,
the tide will never control the moon,
and numbers will never control me.
numbers stab like axes cutting down trees that cry in silent screeches in the forest.
numbers like ninety seven, ninety, and eighty two.
numbers that will never define who i am on a college transcript
and these numbers are worth more than who i am in this world, since we are defined by numbers today
even though we made the same mistake in 1939, turning people into numbers by stabbing pigments into their forearms, creating a lesser value for them.
a forty eight is stupid and a fifteen percent is like a hollow head.
i am defined by numbers like fifteen and forty eight and i am told that i should be embarrassed of who i am, or for the number that i am.
and if an equation can't be solved," i'm sorry m'am you cant move on", because your capacity is again,
defined by a number.
i am not a number
i am not the forty eight or the fifteen that scratches the back of my eyeballs like nails filing down a chalkboard.
i am not the one forty five i sleep at when ripping my hair out trying to solve equations of irrational numbers when i should be solving the equations of my irrational thoughts
and everything is turning round and round and round like the infinite possibilities of solutions to equations,
and i go to sleep, and lay my head down as early as possible, but my mind is running in circles with numbers taunting me and defining me and interrupting my sleep.
it is morning now, my mother comes and checks on me to see how i am in this "new wonderful day"
the tiredness seeps through my purple eye bags that i try to cover with tan makeup, and i think about how i really feel in the morning. i stare in the mirror and numbers stare back, i weep as i sit on the floor with the numbers streaming down my eyes, evacuating them from my system, because numbers have made me mentally insane.
there is no hope of numbers leaving because they carry through, even after algebra two,
weight and credit scores, and the amount of money you owe in debt, your mortgage payment, and the amount your retirement fund has swallowed up for your uncertain future,
i am not a number
i am not a number
and i will fight numbers off like the moon controls the tide,
the tide will never control the moon,
and numbers will never control me.
