"disowning" poems
I'm disowning my name.
In America, my name is cumbersome
and clumsy
and confusing
so I'm leaving it behind.
See,
my name starts with an S and ends with a Z
and one's a mirror of the other
so they're like bookends
for a collection of letters
that spell a name
that I never really felt belonged to me.
Every morning, when I wake up,
I wriggle into my name
but it doesn't feel quite right.
It's like borrowing your best friend's jeans
even though she's tall and skinny
and you've got a hundred generations of Puertoriqueña swirling around the blood in your hips.
I don't like my name
cause it doesn't diffuse across your lips.
It bursts through your teeth.
It's got a weight on your tongue
that brings down the sound with the weight of
a thousand sinking ships.
I've got a
Hispanic Titanic of a name
but my skin's so white
it seems impolite to claim an ethnicity
that only lends its elasticity
because of my father
and the people that brought him here.
My name is not me.
It never was.
It is an anchor that keeps me on the island of what my family used to be.
I am not a race.
I am not a category next to a box on a sheet of paper.
I am the syncopated heartbeat of a tribal drum.
I am the ****** whisper of water on the sand.
I am the sunburn on the corrugated tin.
I am the hunger in the stomachs of the working poor.
So when I die
let me not be remembered by
fifteen letters I did not choose
seven syllables I did not select
three titles I did not ask for.
Let them tell stories of
what I did
where I went
what I saw
who I loved
the words I spoke
the thoughts I formulated,
ignorant of my race
free of bias and prejudice
and preconceived notions
of what I should have been
because in the end
none of this will matter
I'll have no strength for words
but with a penultimate breath
I'll still be able to smile.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
It's a waterfall.
You know, the kind that cascades hard like
the white water rafting trips' featured waves
and just when you think they've calmed,
they're back even stronger.
They said they had their suspicions.
*You've been more flamboyant.
You don't want to dress like your gender.
Stereotype, stereotype, stereotype.
But to be accused,
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US
To be yelled at,
*YOU THOUGHT WE WERE DISAPPOINTED IN YOU THEN?
To wish you were anywhere else but here...
Somewhere over the rainbow...
But I'll never be over the rainbow.
Contrary to her belief,
it's not a phase or something I'll grow out of.
It's genetic.
Contrary to his thinking,
it's not helping
when all my communication with
others is severed.
I'm gay.
There, I admit it.
It's not like I'm gonna scream it from the rooftops, and no,
it's not the reason that I really like bowties and short hair.
Can't you just
accept me?
The final blow
is when your family
decides you're too good
for that type of lifestyle.
WHAT MORE CAN I DO TO IMPRESS YOU?
I've tried my whole life to make you proud.
I guess this just goes to show
that being myself
will never be enough.
So leave me to my cascades and wet cheeks in bed-why do you care-
because we all know you're wishing I'm something I'm not.
Someone I'm not.
Disowning me
would have been the
far superior alternative
to the disappointment.
"Our youngest daughter is just like her father, but looks like her mother. And our oldest daughter? She looks like her father, but acts like her mother. Well...she did."
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 11:19 AM UTC
My Mom called me a clever girl
It felt like a slap in the face
She said, “My sister did that, too,
Wrote silly poems and crocheted lace”
Since Alpha, her older sister
Had a bad rheumatic heart
Too weak to help with the farm work
She cooked a little for her part
While Mom, the Swedish farm girl
With a rope tied around her waist
Up at four to reach the barn
Six feet of snow was every place
She had to milk the cows then
It was bone-freezing cold
Her older brother Forrest
Plowed the fields at twelve years old
Their father died and left them
To run the family dairy farm
Soon after Alpha passed on, too
Depression inflicted more harm
That year was 1931
Ancient history one might say
Grandmother never recovered
Her depression years there to stay
Cokato, Minnesota
Who could blame my mom for running
Her mother could not forgive her
Til she installed indoor plumbing
She had run away to Oakland
A California nursing school
Her mother called her **********
And disowning her was cruel
But she was the lone survivor
In her family of five
So she nursed her future husband
After World War II arrived
They married and moved to Boston
The Yankee soldier and farm girl
It was 1950’s suburbs
To my father it was rural
Theirs was such a raucous union
Like a constant fire alarm
That when I could I moved down South
My dream came true-I bought a farm
How history repeats itself
And leaves its own impression
Alpha was reborn as me
But treated for depression
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
2012 reasons
To be afraid
Of the end
And I
Decide not
I will
Drop the world
After carrying
For too long
Caring for too long
Lost faith
Makes room
For another
Sharing my last
Drop of water
With the unfortunate
These *************
Have ******
Mother earth
For the last time
The last crime
Is the worst sin
****** in the first
Then
Third degree burns
On her children
Which they earned
For disowning her
The mother’s boys
Are looked down upon
So they take after their father
Wars
Generals
Kings of destruction
******* the life
Out of humanity
Insanity is for the wise
Guys
Who’d rather go crazy
Before leaving
Earth blazing
With the false truth
We have faults too
Falling
Into the ********
Propaganda proposed
By the doctor
Believing being
Bipolar
Isn’t good
And bad
Having a war within the mind
I’m
A soldier of love
And these *******
Are making it hard
On
The ones trying
To save Grace
From these *********
While we
Are called *****
For taking it all in
We reap what we sow
Workers use the ***
Then look down
On what they created
While desperate housewives
Left alone
Let gardeners
Enter her home
What
In the ****
Is the world coming to
An end.
But I disagree
With the Mayan calendar
Their knowledge
Is great
Yet weak
From their lack of faith
In humanity
Let’s prove ‘em wrong
And walk backwards
For a change
When the earth quakes
And the sky falls
Let’s break
From our ways
And stray
Away
From any path
Created out of fear
And stand
At out post
As the sun
Cries it’s tears
Of fire
And burn
Us all
Ignorantly,
Ill ignore
And stand tall
.Just.
To show these *******
The meaning
Of having *****
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:52 AM UTC
Reach for the sun,
My father always said,
Don’t ever fall to the ground;
So I climbed every tree,
Hiked over every mountain,
But the Sun, I never found.
Get off your knees, and
Run to the Heavens,
He would always say;
I ran to Church, and
Away from my sins,
But the Heavens eluded my way.
Swim to Atlantis,
Find the lost city
He muttered under his breath;
I swam for miles,
Dove to dark depths,
But discovered, there was nothing left.
He forgot my existence,
Lost all faith,
From his mouth, there wasn’t a sound;
He escaped my glances,
Never asked for a thing,
His love was nowhere to be found.
And yet: I had reached for the Sun,
Chased after the Heavens,
Even searched for Atlantis.
I had reached for his approval,
Chased after his affection,
And finally decided - **** it.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
Days flash past my shadow
Unable to distinguish your face.
Missing someone is overestimated
An individual can't be missed
But how you felt in his presence
Will subsist.
Love conquers as endless matter
Thus exposing your heart is key,
For a new world to perceive.
An unknown yet
familiar ardor rushes through my veins,
I thence forsee you're present but somehow
Gone away.
Humankind around neglected you
Trust is reasonably locked into your gut
Disowning is no option,
Neither patronizing you;
Been there myself.
Dark nights
Dark thoughts;
Disoriented your head,
But reincarneted who you are today.
Don't contemplate there is no better.
Stand high on your feet,
Drown yourself on memories
That once made you
Complete.
Perhaps I'll never be your future,
Perhaps my existence to you is nonsense.
Straightforwardly;
Merely knowing you're no longer lost,
Will be my cue for moving on.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 11:38 PM UTC
I sit on the floor
of my newly carpeted room
searching for answers
in the white crackled ceiling
and find nothing
but imaginary shapes of hope
in the bumps that preside in it.
There is no meaning to this,
broken hearts laying down
final words as they rest easy,
hardly trying to find love again
in the things they lost,
criticizing every act of affection
and disowning the thought of recovery.
I imagine the sky
changing past the roof above where my eyes meet
the ceiling
while I sit here decaying with the thought
that no one will ever love me
like I want them to
and no one will ever want me
if I don’t even want myself,
how do I get through a life
where there is no affection to be found?
I sink into the carpet,
eyes red against plush blue
wondering if I’ll ever accept
that some people aren’t meant to be loved
and maybe I am one of them.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC
did you become a monster trying to be like me
love found,
our bitter catastrophe
I announce in small tongues
because I am far past shy
I dwell below the medium of discreet
I fell for that
that
which will never fall for me
secret bliss shared in corners of my mind
to be gazed upon by wolves
devoured in the late night sky
I travel with your mind in my mind
I do understand none of this will ever
be redefined
but I carry you within me regardless
of the bad times
touch the ill pale stricken love side
dive in midnight incubus pools
we lived in the most blackened of times
we drank what was not
but to me, the most red of wine
I sink into the thought of you
you do not love me anymore
I was torn behind you
shredded like pieces of cloth
buried deep into the cemetary in your soul
lost that woman who believed in romance and goth
I smear the dirt from against my cheek
you should see the sadness within me
the ****** blood tangent
the ****** of naked torture
I cover my privates
there is nothing left to hide
prisoners try to escape
I dwell here, numb with the thought of you
my hands trail behind me
Im going to die
Im going to die right here
admitting this beneath me
tonight
a few hours
man
haunted
kissed
shoulders
hair
trailing
age
there is something hidden between the refined
lips of a staggered feline
tramped like irony against my soul
a birthmark
a cure
hurt
hurt
no escaping
trapped
whole
the understanding
the love that gives out a sigh of death
a sigh of disowning
a sigh of painful living
endured upon me like knives
punching
peircing
reminding
every single drought stricken day
I lay upon my pillow gently
oh yes
I give into all this pain
what else can I do with my small hands that were left
wrinkled and have become prune from living in your rain
what has become of the sickness
the splattered guts and the vain
suffer
detachment
drunk
comfort
drowning
smile nervously
smile hesitantly
smile
remorse
beg
hurt
how can I ever come to play
simply spread my meaning
simply tell the tale of where my soul went when you had gone astray
packed your bags and got on the closest highway
with the word
gay
dripping out the side of my brain
hands curved next to my cheek
fingers twisted
heat overwhelming
panting
screaming
I have learned you
stitched lips
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 7:59 PM UTC
If you ever see me
run over.
kicked.
bleeding.
blurring.
on the ground.
incoherently.
something wrong with me.
or that I’m not conscious,
don’t look for my breath
or heartbeat,
don’t reach for a phone to call
an ambulance that will drive me
to the hospice
to which the world throws you in
when your window sill climbing,
barefoot walking
in the dirt rolling
like child with freeing thoughts drooling
or law-culture breaking
gets too much
of a crime for them.
don’t ask me if I see still fine
your two or four fingers
yet look for the tears in my eyes.
For if I don’t have them anymore
and won’t get myself then or ever again
to truly cry,
it is only then
that you’ll know
I stopped fighting,
I died,
I ultimately ***** myself
and I forgot
there is more Beyond.
and without that
my existence isn’t worth
looking for the pulse
anymore.
I will not be worth
of seeing stars
as a boy
without sanity
or glasses
anymore.
...
I swear on you
upon all
that
heed.
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
The possible possibly came possible to her possible responsibility
But the product produced her production
And hope hoped for opinion to indulge
Gulfs of emotions showed attention
which led to disappointment
advantage disowning the prophet that lies
Average feelings decided on their own
Affection caused
Meetings annoyed many mind cells
turning down any appointment pointed
All was needed was love
that resulted in fear
Fear of love war
all was bad into their hearts
Because of love
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
Unconscious con-artists
sipping on each other's pop
intertwining their legs like Twizzlers
Squeezing the back of their necks
playing in the dark
tumultuous bed sheet
half-hanging on a mattress
Bruised lip, scratched skin
Disowning our faults
Pulled triggers on abrasive guns
for provocation and
crawling into trouble
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
poetry with two spoons and a salt shaker
~for poet, writer, Lora Lee, unexpectedly~
my symphonic orchestral accompaniment today, musically
unlimited, except by lack of disowning skill, a voice unkempt,
spoons and salt shaker, there in-nate rhythmic opinions off key,
worse, my manly word-smithy, out o’town in June, July, August too?
He, having an affair with my she-muses, left me bereft & berated,
helplessly hoping, the timpani of my words clashing, overrated,
woeful under-something, betraying my need for spicy sriracha,
poetry, sans hamburger helper, no-tasty, even less-than-average
everyone comes rushing in to the kitchen, hearing my to-sky-voices
howling, thinking something wrong, the four instruments rack up a cacophony of rhythmic-less noises, words emerging, to-a-person, they announce, “you’re no Allen Ginsburg, ppp-please not so early next time”
alas, they don’t know the poems are coming hot and heavy, guess I’ll
go outside, serenade them birdies in the trees, the striped bass in the bay, the rabbits procreating/sleeping/eating under their (our) dock
the squirrels know better, have skedaddled to the next-door-neighbor who feeds them classical stuff with a dollop of jazz creme mixed in, but I don’t care, cause I got all day, the rest of my life, to amuse me & you too
to refine the qualitative, to improve my creative, I’ve gone “native” and the rush is the best, the wind beneath my spectacles (haha) drives my rhyming to lowlight heights of prosody, besides seems
everybody has gone to a different beach, so it’s just me and the giant blackbirds cawing holy hell noises, and I’m thinking seriously about baking pie, but they just don’t get the hint, how annoying is that!
harrumph!
BESIDES GOTTA WRITE SOME SERIOUS STUFF...
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
My tears would soak my face,
eyes red from the tiny veins busting inside from strain
my laugh was the loudest, my love was all in
my heart was running a never ending race
I felt a constant weight lay on my chest and my stomach never felt full
A deep emptiness engulfed me, a longing for life like I could taste it if I wanted to
chances waiting every hour, every minute things could change
goals upon goals and dreams upon dreams
I could take on the world, the doubt of others only a motivator to my next step
a powerhouse of life, love, movement and strength I was
a butterfly in the sky just out of reach
I really felt like I could fly back then
I felt guided by my spirit,
Like Frodo I had a secret weapon in my pocket to find the light, even in the darkest of places, unafraid to use it when all hope was gone
I was sassy, sarcastic and quick
always on the ready to jump, scream, laugh smile or run
It felt like me against the world and I was on the greatest team
I had a knowing that I was not going to let myself down, I would not be like them
I would be different
but I wasn’t
all the poems that I wrote, all the feelings that I felt, all the love I poured out, all the dreams I wasted and achieved, all the trying, kicking, screaming, joy, sorrow and peace, all of it
and yet I still became the one thing I spent so much time disowning
I still became me
Sep 25, 2023
Sep 25, 2023 at 11:53 AM UTC
As you know, I come from an emotional, dysfunctional delusion
A sort of internal, infernal, disowning confusion
This pain is sempiternal, but I'm a dynamite with the fuse lit
I’m not gonna complain again, cause that’d be useless
I mean it’s not like she’d ever hear the words that I say it's
As if I never spoke them, oh god I'm nuisance
I'm so pessimistic
It's really pathetic
To watch me **** myself over a few sad sentences
I'm so narcissistic
It's really poetic
To tie the knots on my noose with my own words
Before I die though
I'll go on the aggressive
With some passive resistance
Because I'm honestly quite sick of all this constant ********
Call me Ghandi and I'll be quick to dismiss it
Unlike him, I know when I'm through being messed with
And I don't let people step on me like I'm a rug on their doorstep
Unlike me, he's not over possessive
And people didn't call him out for being over obsessive
But we both fight for what we think is right
Except he teaches on the lesson
While I'm kind of offensive
And the amount of times I swear is a little over excessive
But It helps get the point across to these ******* thick headed dimwits
So I can see how I'm not one they'd be impressed with
You know who you are when I'm this far on the defensive
I'm just a little over protective
There's no limit to how much I can stress it
You'd be my way too if you were looking from my perspective.
Because what if all of the sudden
Like a flame in the kitchen
Something you thought was normal grew into something that isn't
Because they only listen
When there is no way of saving
And only when you die do they even look what you've written
Poem after song and song after poem
I'm so sick of all these words unspoken
But I'll let out all my thoughts and that is a promise
So look me in the eyes and I'll be honest
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
0219
God’s provision is manna to keep,
Manna to embrace,
Manna to enjoy.
Under the heavens, one can burst into complain
When he knows not the worth
Of even a single drop pouring like rain.
While the others rejoice —
Dancing in the moonlight, in the fiercest milky way
For his prayers have been answered,
His tears, he knows are worth keeping in a bottle.
One can roar like a lion in desperation:
And so he starves but neither he was killed by others’ bow
Nor the strong cravings in his belly
But by grumbling with his poisonous words
Like wearing a snake as a scarf on his neck.
One can ask for more that are outside of his reach,
But there is one who before he asks,
has already been greatly received.
His grips are not on his pocket,
Not even on the purses which were secondhand,
But it’s a grip of one who is courageous enough —
The one whose arrows are not traded to the west,
Nor does his shield echo while in defense of his keeps.
The one who knows whom he truly trusts:
A trademark of a mighty warrior,
Never peeling in deceit.
Two eyes can be set on the same red sparrow
But in the goodbye of the mist,
Truth is still the truth, there’ll be no hidden things.
One eye blurs into the abyss of fire
While the other is embraced with the kiss of the heavens.
We can choose to be one who is choked by his words —
The one whose sword is in his golden chest,
Never knowing the bleeding of his heart,
The one whose spirit is mourning alive.
But rather be the one who is the recipient of grace,
Melody is the Sun, shone on his face
The one whose greatest weapon is the decree of his heart.
He thirsts for instructions,
Knowing the throne isn’t his.
He dwells in the court of corrections, disowning his pride —
So be the one whose trust is never in his might.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 9:43 PM UTC
The suppressing, the forgetting, the disowning of a me
I never wanted to be seems to be failing miserably
As she slowly creeps, scratches her way back to the surface.
Each day consuming me and transforming me bit by bit
Back to the person I once was
And fought so hard to forget.
I promised myself I'd never become her again
And yet here we are.
She's laughing and mocking me
For ever thinking I could pull off being this girl
I pretend to be.
I guess I was hoping
Eventually this act i have on would consume me
The way she had and finally I'd be
What everyone wants me to be:
OKAY.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
I don't care much
would you mind
giving me your number
You look fab, tonight.
of which, I go
as I dance
in a midnight shadow
and this lurking image on me
the curse begin
of the pain, i felt
and the bitterness
i don't care much
disowning everything you ever knew
is of mighty courage
as i remove myself from all the subjects i ever read
subtracting to all the inheritances
of shallow practices and gaining attentions
with bleak sincerity
would you spend time with me
you are beautiful, lovely lady
these words, it doesn't reach to my ear
nor to my heart
I don't know why people fall in love
with a hollow shadow
or maybe they find solace
in not being noticed
in these naked nights
i sleep all my time
keeping myself too busy
to think much
as i don't care much
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
I often find myself seeking validation from words that were never written for my tongue
Caging myself behind walls made of letters still undefined
pacing the corners of my fears wondering what is being said in another’s mind
I run from the words that define my faults, disowning them and leaving them behind
But I still carve them into the crevices of my skin, to remind myself of everything that I’ll never be
Then, I write a stranger's name beside them so that I can blame someone else for my insecurities.
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 4:17 AM UTC
To my loved ones, I'm a ghost: I haunt them, I am to be shunned. Heartless as ghosts are, I do not feel wrath-- I feel the emptiness.
What have I done to become this sort of monstrosity?
What must I do to come alive before them?-- What must I do--
to become real in their eyes?
To my loved ones, I am **** I am brown, filthy, avoided.
They seek to go back to the ******** of the owners
who love disowning them.
Why, my beloved owners, do you not see-- that I am your ****
There are many like me, but this **** is yours.
To my loved ones, I'm just phlegm. Sticky-- yuck!
But, the same substance used to protect them from viruses
Why do you look at me--
Your protector, with disdain?
Do you not see:
I may be all of these, but I am yours anyway.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
Poetry Reading in Oslo
Never had the lack of talent exhibited itself in so many poets.
I'm referring to a poetry fest in Oslo- years ago- for whom
Norwegian was not their first language.
On a wooden table booklets of third-rate poetry trying to
look invisible disowning the poet's feeble effort to make
words sing. The poetry reading was disrupted the readers
a military band next door a blessing for the listeners of
trite words of love. Among the naïve public, women looking
for *** with young poets thinking it was romantic.
What a moth-eaten group of poets assembled in this cold and
indifferent land, hope is when they came home sat down and
through hard work gave birth to poetry.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 7:05 AM UTC
I'm a *********
Agony is ecstasy so wound me
Cut every part of me that failed to please
Watch my hands swimming on those cuts like your fingers sliding through your hair
Feed me more for I'm a zombie feeding on myself
Savor every moment because I won't stand tall to go down again
Crack me wide open to find no part of me crying in pain
Knife your name all over me and peel like an artist disowning her sickest masterpiece
One doesn't bleed love and nothing you did could **** the you inside me
It was love that got me ready to bleed for your delight
Love was when I refused to fight
Bisect my heart in two
I die in love with you
Drink your fill like a vampire before you hand me to the pyre
Love was when I surrendered to please your desire
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
The rest of me , I lay down my weapons so this could be . I fall straight down to one knee. And cry endlessly. Grey lit skies above , when you look away disowning love. Take the time to beat , and see whats in my mind , mind boggling . Destroying every last string holding me,can't you see. I'm falling apart , as my world comes deadly. Silent screams , crackling bolts of lightning strike facelessly, namelessly . Open heartedness, forgiven .lost for the time I was driven . Believe in . Every aspect of my life , thrown out my window and forgotten. But me , I'll never be the same again . Ever again .
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 4:42 AM UTC
Faithful faults r we.
Wedges pounding our frozen shattered beings.
How a heart beats in granite like masoleums.
Massive monsters we have roaming. Calling home a sense or feeling.
Den of vipers we are owning.
Not a one is, can, will be disowning.
Egos blaspheme steady.
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
where to begin
there is so much ******* pain
lined up inside me
like layers of skin
i have layers of pain
so much unsorted trauma
lying in my chest, mind, heart
my soul
it aches for growth, but
i am still figuring out the trauma part
i am not who i am born into
i am not the things that have happened to me
i am not the people who have hurt me
i am Me
i am my Self
I am Grace
i am strong
i have been hurt
but the weight of the pain has become
too heavy to drag around
i must dump the body
the body of trauma that lay inside me
fare ******* well
i am not required to forgive you
and for now i cannot
for you have sinned much more,
far, far, far more than forgiveness could erase
ten fold
i hope the horrible
terrible
evil
things you’ve committed
i hope they come down raining
ten fold
on your stupid ******* head
since you don’t get the picture
and here i will sit
while you writhe in suffering
disowning your evilness
rather than facing it head on
swords up
cutting through the thick disgust
but you ******* cower
like the piece of **** you are
you feel no remorse
you find pleasure in the pain of others
and for that
let bygones be bygones
i trust.
for your troubles are out of my hands
the things you’ve done to me
they are out of my hands
i will try to forgive,
oh but i will never ******* forget
i fill my hands with what i deserve
i fill my hands with love
i fill my hands with abundance
i fill my hands with peace
i let you go now
you no longer have a place in my life
holding on much longer will not suffice
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
You are perfect, you never make mistakes . .
It's always me . .
You always try to fix me and point out everything I do,
Is there any grace?
Correction unto perfection . .
I don't want to settle for less,
But I'm giving my best . .
And it's never enough . .
All I ever do is let you down . .
What must I do to satisfy you? - become you?
Can't I be myself, have my own life,
Make my own decisions, have my own convictions . .
I'm old enough now to own what I believe,
I'm not disowning you, but we won't agree on everything . .
I'm not a people pleaser anymore . .
There is responsibility on my part . .
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 9:35 PM UTC