A book of poetry

Map.*

I don't think you get it.
I don't want to be saved.
Fuck the mold, I don't want to fit.
I just want the feeling I've always craved.

I don't care what you think is best.
I really and truly don't.
I desperately need to rest.
But I know until I die, I won't.

You claim you know what's good for me.
But I don't think you do.
I'd be happy
If that were true.

I don't want to be like you,
All normal and bland.
I'm different, through and through.
And I know that's not what you planned.

You had my whole life mapped out,
You wanted me to be a teacher.
You wanted me to follow you without doubt.
You wanted me to honor the preacher.

I'm not going to follow your map.
I'm going to find my own way.
I'm done with all your crap.
My journey starts today.

I'm tearing up the map.
I'm burning the notes.
I won't fold my hands in my lap
And be quiet as I get strangled by your ropes.

I won't just sit around,
Waiting for my Prince Charming.
I'll tear my tower to the ground.
Well, isn't that alarming?