I want all my lines to pack a punch
but all I hear after each line's jolted rush,
is to crawl back from whence I came,
to remain there with a hush.

your gender won't allow it
your race won't allow it
privilege soaked woman
with fair skin, pretty mouth, oval eyes

stay in your corner with your hush
line up like the rest of them,
in between the dazzling city lights
allow your clothes to hug you tight

stay in your corner with your hush
dont speak of your misery into the night
when they have learned to scream louder,
crawl into dank spaces with a lofty smile
and hand out compliments on your grandma's gilded platters

stay in your corner with your hush
allow the woman to side-eye you
allow the man to side-eye you
while the world remains all ablaze
and the women fix their hair on murky bar mirrors

stay in your corner with your hush
don't speak too much, you'll give it away
that you are a breathing living entity of
fire, earth and water.

Don't dare relate them
to me or you
to he or they or them
for they have found more comfort
in separation than in likeness,
remain as unsharpened pencils in a box
dazzling in a row, ineffective for the prose,
stay in your corner with your hush.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost

And so i waded at the fork
in the woods and recalled
these oft-repeated words,

i aimed my shoes to the left
for this was the road
that was undoubtedly
less traveled

but i hesitated and my thoughts
turned to "conformity" -
the merry subject
at poem's hand.

for although the thick
brush was denser
on this part of land,
i could at least understand

conforming for uncomformities
sake was in itself ..
a conformism,
and the real
unconformity was uniforming
yourself to you.