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Eleanor Webster Dec 2017
Faulty factory toys are fun to use, at first
Blue eyed girl with the white blonde curls
From dads side of the family
They coo at her
Before she learns to walk
And talk
And talk
And talk
When they built her in the baby factory
They must've forgot the little red button
The one that says
"Shut up for one single solitary ******* second and let someone else speak"
She doesn't pause to allow the other person the liberty to flit words through the air like songbirds
Instead hers land like pheasants
Shot in the skull
Trickling out opinions that were never asked for
With the brain fluid.

She's got a lot of them too
Opinions
And they're all right
She knows everything there is to know
At seventeen as well
What a prodigy, she thinks
What a nuisance, say the wise men
What a delusional idiot
What
A
Bore into her skull and all you'll see
Behind the kind eyes and philosophy
Is a witch
Entranced by the enchantment
Of her own voice
A selfish *******
Who buys her birthday presents at the last minute.

At least the parents got to have a test drive
A prototype
So they knew what to do right this time
Factor out whatever it was
The ingredients with the sell by date
That made this thing so near to right
But odd enough to be 'not quite'.
This time make one that's not lazy
That's not selfish
That doesn't want to be a ******* artist
That lets others speak
That can contribute and participate
Not sit on the sidelines
Heading for burnout
Heading for disaster-

Uncheck the box this time that says
Sordid mind
That says
Can't reply to texts
Even when friends are on the edge
of suicide, For ***** sake.
Tick the box that unveils the beauty of humanity
Fix it's eyes
Teach her to see these sacks of meat
The way others do
The way you're supposed to
Instead of like puzzles or pictures or packaging for a soul
Create a person not afraid
Of making mistakes
that can make her own decisions
This time make a mind
That can jump through the hoops
Society left behind
Fix her this time
Don't make another freak
On the fringes
Never quite fitting in

And the funny thing is
Even after this ******* perfect kid
Comes along and shows that blue eyed blonde-haired girl
Just how to do it
She's an old *****
No use teaching her new tricks
She'll shut out little miss pretty perfect project two point oh
She can't seem to help it
She thinks the best company in the world is her head
Her head?! Have you seen it
It's barbed wire and sunshine
It’s a rose choked by thorns
Do not touch her-
She will make you bleed.
This is a poem I wrote when I was in a really dark place, which is paired by a poem I wrote later on which was a much more positive self-reflection. The original ending was 'I'm a poor older sister and I am not a good daughter', but I felt that was too personal, so I changed it to be much more visual. This is a slam poem that I performed in the final of UniSlam 2017, where my team came fourth in the country!
Thomas Conlan Aug 2017
Trapped inside this cranial ride,
I watch from eyes determined to hide.

From your lips,
your body,
your sensual touch,
I find the feelings are too much;

I shut myself in.

The sin of such a travesty is too much for me to take.
So I sit inside my skull and fake,
the only way that I know how;
I dance around your moves,
speak my lines, and bow.
I put on a play and perform perfectly
to distract from my abnormality.

These open eyes reveal lies of a cowardly man in disguise.
Who locks himself in his head alone to practice every ****** and moan.

— The End —