#socialpressure
I sit quietly in the corner of the room.
The fluorescent lights blinding me,
the hazy blur of bodies throwing taunting words,
that leaves invisible scars on my soul.
I must smile and swallow the age-old lesson "forgive and forget."
I should play mother to the pretentious.
I need to stay poised, a lifeless doll trapped in an All-American dream.
I have to laugh sweetly, choking on the venom.
Politics, gender roles, and important issues.
I will nod my head like a puppet to appease their boulder-sized egos.
I am an ever-giving light,
bleeding out my kindness because that's what’s expected.
I must never let them see the raging beast beneath my ribs.
I should be a machine that cuts its engine the second a man asks.
I need to play into the hypocritical standards, hiding the urge to bite back.
I have to be eternally grateful for the crumbs of attention they graciously throw to me.
I sit quietly in the corner of the room.
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 11:57 PM UTC
I linger in the shadows,
rehearsing every line of my prose,
starving for kindred to stay long enough to be mine,
while burying the wires of my seemingly accidental coincidences.
The wisest and most solicitous beings
must drag their pawns across the board.
Checkmate.
I built my realm with careful formulation
The wicked crime to be committed:
forcing spirits in a causal nexus of maneuvers.
I hide the scars that I have scattered on my heart as a child.
The vicious rejections of my being.
That is the architect of my everlasting scheming:
the brutal concealment of a desire to be loved wholly.
Yet you unraveled my soul and saw right through me,
made up your mind long before to stay,
and played the puppet for my sanity without me realizing.
With a wide, knowing smile on your face—
you memorized the choreography of my strategy,
you knew I only care.
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 11:58 PM UTC
Tripping over myself, bleeding myself out
trying to confine myself
to the confines of your categories, the cages
that barricade us in. I have rapidly outgrown them and
now they splinter skin.
When should I begin to cry out?
I have seen others leave it too late —
their bodies impaled by cold, hard metal
their organs pooling on the floor, their hearts’ still beat
once, twice,
they stop.
Is it possible to shrink? tweezer out the splinters
before I am spilt
pull out my own bones until I fit.
Hypocritical to myself I encourage the cries of relief
as the brave ones
break free —
Will I be consumed? Or will I break
out
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 2:06 AM UTC