i am an ashamed american. this
is supposed to be the land of the free.
please. tell me what is free about ferguson,
missouri. is freedom enlisting three
policemen for an armed white protest and
hundreds of riot police for a peaceful
colored one? please. tell me what is free?
why is racism a 21st century problem?
these days, girls
strive to become
effy stonem- a
fictional character on
a show where
everyone drinks and
has ***, and
in the end
of the program
she looses her
mind, but yet
every girl wants
to grow up
to be her.
enticing? i think
hello my name is dyed red hair
hello my name is infj
hello my name is having a love hate relationship with different music genres
hello my name is crying during sad or happy movies
hello my name is an avid just dance player
hello my name is wearing black all the time
hello my name is liking the color blue best
hello my name is b math
hello my name is canadian
hello my name is sometimes not so happy with my weight
hello my name is a writer
hello my name is being afraid of being left alone
hello my name is captain of the volleyball team
hello my name is a christian
hello my name is q
hello my name is fashion lover
hello my name is making bad decisions
hello my name is loving to travel a lot
dedicated to jaide lynne, i really liked your poem so i thought i'd make my own
but doesn't it seem weird
that we expect
students to know
exactly what they're
going to do
for the rest of their
i can do anything.
six words are hard to choose
You'd go to their parties in your best clothes,
you'd tell them secrets to better portray how you wanted
to be consumed; how you wanted to be seen in
the right light of entwined, callous mouths.
Though years passed and the canteen hall
smelled of stale jokes and worn-out references
your group stuck together by a conformed
sense of security and a scared mixture of secrets.
The bell rung hollow one last time as your
group disbanded into grey, lifeless figures.
The adults around you knew them as temporary
indulgences. You called them something warmer.
10 minute poem