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~
This forbidden city
walks on water,
keeps all the undesirables at bay,
it's always a balancing act.

Oh, blighted court
of Catherine the Great,
thy friends are having a hard time,
but horsing around, no less.

Enlightened by summer drugs,
and busting out of
their tops and castles,
thongs on thy feet,
and thongs on thy bottoms,
this zenith and this nadir
come in colorful collages,
everything else is a flash of flesh.

Sped along by
frequent bloodletting,
there's a revolution in
thy teenage mind,
a looking for the hidden
and interested motives,
but no one can live
their life on the skis.

Rulership of heart is far
from recreation,
but you raised
a smile to sin,
until all we could do was
shake our heads and laugh.

~
From the 'Checklist Before Commencing on a Dream.'

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4793791/checklist-before-commencing-on-a-dream/
 Mar 29 Maryann I
Kai
Normal
 Mar 29 Maryann I
Kai
Why won't you allow me to live normally?
Why won't you allow me to live in peace?
Can you stop being delusional?
I don't want to be in your delusions
I don't want to be the main focus of your delusions
Stop sexualizing me
It's creepy

Stop pretending to be part of the "normal human" society
You're not normal
You are nearly 50 years old
You live in Australia
You're a narcissist
You talk to minors daily
You're delusional
You stalk my page daily
You harass me
You threaten my life
With a long knife

Now what in the he double hockey sticks is going on?

You claim you're not in love with me
Yet, you decide to write ****** things about me
(which is quite creepy because I'm 12 years old)
You're obsessed with my race
Then you may say my poetry is a disgrace
You criticize my poetry
Then compliment my poetry
Pick a side!
With the rules you'd have to abide!
Don't be a "182 IQ" *******!

Leave me and my brother alone
He won't be manipulated by you
I won't be manipulated by you
He won't be in your "cult" or "team"

You've learned about my Papa after mentioning him a few times
Papa was the thing I referred to you as
Are you trying so hard to be my Papa?
Because I would never refer you as my Papa ever again
He's a kind, strong, compassionate man that spoils me and drinks at night to fall to sleep
Something that you'd never understand

I've told you multiple times to leave me alone
This is my last warning
No Ryan, I'm not going to write a poem about him just for you.
 Mar 28 Maryann I
kn
Dearest Parents,

I don’t even know where to begin, because there’s so much sitting in my heart. Some of it heavy, some of it aching and all of it quietly waiting to be heard.

I miss you both.
I miss home.
I miss the feeling of safety I used to associate with your presence. Even when things were hard, I believed, deep down, that love was somewhere in the room.

But now… I feel banished. Like I was pushed out from the one place I thought would always take me in. I don’t know if it was something I did, or didn’t do, or simply who I am. But the silence, the distance, it’s louder than any words you could’ve spoken.

I’ve been trying to be strong. To hold myself up without the foundation I used to rely on. To believe I still matter, even when I feel forgotten. It hurts. It hurts in the kind of way that lingers, that wakes me up at night, that makes me question my worth.

Still, somewhere in me, there’s a small flicker of love that hasn’t gone out. A part of me that wishes you could see me. Not as a disappointment, not as someone to cast out, but just as your child. I’m not perfect, but I’ve always carried love for you. I still do.

Maybe you’ll never read this. Maybe nothing will change. But I needed to say it, for me. I needed to let these words out of the cage they’ve been in.

With love and sadness,
Me
 Mar 28 Maryann I
Eve
11/12
 Mar 28 Maryann I
Eve
spongey bones
ten little toes
not a single cry is heard.
i did not sing when
brought into this world.

bright blue eyes
grandfather in a tie
silent doctors grim and telling lies.
"we have no reason to believe
that she is in any pain"

twisted tendons
agony, unending
reshaping, like im made of clay
sterile tubes and lights
was all I knew, for so many nights

a macabre expanse
of leather and metal in a cruel dance
the clicking like the knell at my guillotine
fear strangling with cold hands
while the sheets witness suppressed sobs

she is not yet one
but her torture is not close to done.
I brush my teeth like I’m getting ready for war.
Or I forget to for three days
until my canines are wearing sweaters.

Temu moisturizer like battle paint.
Who knows what’s in there.
Who cares.

Upside-down Claddagh on my ring finger like a threat.
And it might be.

I put my hair up like a woman with secrets—
on the days I brush it.
A bumpy bun the rest of the time.

I shed like a stripper.
I strip like a thief.

I walk out the garage door like I invented sorrow.
I get in my car
like every song from Reputation to Tortured Poets
was written for me.

I wave to strangers like I’m about to die.
Cross the street like it’s a choice.
Clock into work like I have a hit on my head.

I **** Elf Bars like they’ve got confessions inside,
and blow out like they won’t give me cancer—
because they can tell
I approach them with pure intentions
and a positive spirit.

I know how to make an exit
that feels like a funeral.
I know how to hold a coffee cup
like I’m accepting an award
no one else can see.

I take bites of dropped chocolate chip cookies
but spit them out before they ruin me.

I spend too long staring at my own reflection,
just to make sure I still exist.

I catalog new moles.
Curse the milia above my eyelids.
Buzz off my mustache.
Denounce my chin hairs.
I think thin.

Sometimes I blink
just to feel time move.

I keep novels in my bag like armor,
and a journal like a last will and testament.

The expensive pens from Amazon
that don’t crawl up my left hand
like a disease.
That don’t smudge the page
like I have something to hide.

I pay for Spotify.
Skip the songs that hurt.
Play the one that ruins me.

I cry on the train
like I’m filming something important.
Because I will be.

I want everything I feel
to mean something.
I want every single ache to echo.
I want my poems
reverberating in the minds of people
who are emotionally legendary.

I want the world to apologize
for not feeling it first.

Sometimes I walk
like I’m being watched
by everyone who’s ever left me.

Sometimes I smile
like I know something God doesn’t.

Sometimes I think I was born
just to document
what it means to be alive
in the most dramatic possible way.

Because I am the first girl
to ever feel anything.
“the anthem of the emotionally legendary”
 Mar 28 Maryann I
Zazu
Lace
 Mar 28 Maryann I
Zazu
I wish my words would
fall as quietly as silk
that my questions were as
see-through as mesh
that the person I make of myself
is skillfully made like lace

lace sometimes gets snagged and torn
sometimes it meets a frustrated seam ripper
but is beautiful even in shreds
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