The Last Mermaid

~ 4 ~

"Write a better poem" she says, "They need words they can understand"

- "Think Ariana Grande meets Cheerleading Competition, or young 14 year old Kim Kardashian"

I don't know why I write

Am I drowning in water, or am I floundering for it?

Perhaps, you'll find these the scribblings of a mad whore

"It's too long and it doesn't rhyme... we want something more simple like

'My love was a weed growing out of your head.'"

Unrequited love - the classic standby, what happens when it runs out?

I'm no Sylvia Plath. I'm not going to stick my head in the oven over a man that doesn't love me and blame it on my father

I'm not the darkness that looms in the empty hallways of academia

I'm only trying to keep myself from drowning within the empty country roads, to rise above the pot roasts and church sermons, to not be a "season"

I draw the water from the streams, from the rivers, from puddles, and from ponds

I meditate upon it

Hoping to draw it back within me