Keeping up pretenses is important, they said.
You are weak, a flower that can be crushed
easily in the softest of palms.
Be bold, a bitch, they said.
Fuck everyone in your path, they advised.
They told you your differences were your weaknesses.
You wouldn't grow.
You're too normal. You're nothing.
You haven't done anything. You're really nothing.
She thought about all of this.
Long and hard.
Long and hard.
Every damn day.
Every damned day.
The world was as fucked up,
as we left it last.
No comments:
Post a Comment