I feel so damn D Seventh.
Or maybe F Minor.
I can't decide.
The window unit air conditioner is bitingly cold,
Even though it's the middle of summer.
Who am I, to find poetic beauty in broken glass, old toys, and old music?
I can find it in almost anything.
I want to live in a poetic world.
But all I get is sunny days and an alcoholic father.
Why can't I feel E Minor,
Or maybe C Seventh?
Simple. I'm a girl (am I?) in a stupid body with a dysfunctional brain and family.
Why can't I just be a white-toothed, tanned, and long haired girl?
Again, simple.
Because I was once.
Not anymore.
I'm a vampiric-looking, short haired queer.
I don't even want to be the person I was.
I just want their happiness.
I don't want my eye bags and sharp edges.
But I'm nothing but sharp edges and teeth anymore.
My bite is just as bad as my bark sometimes,
Drawing blood no matter what I do.
Maybe I should shave my head and break a window or two.
Maybe I should stop being homesick for people and start getting homesick for cold nights alone,
Where I write better poetry.
Teen rebellion isn't just about telling our parents to stop treating us like shit,
It's also about breaking yourself into pieces to salvage what you like.
Because if not,
You might just live a life built on the things you don't like about yourself.
YOU ARE READING
Sam Glaspy's Poetry
PoetrySam Glaspy's sad and gay poetry about her stupid dumb life. Welcome to hell, loves! WE DID IT Y'ALL- #5 IN SYNESTHESIA AFTER ONLY TEN VOTES THAT REALLY TELLS YOU HOW LITTLE PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT IT BUT IM STILL PROUD OF US!
