Tell me again, Emo Girl

How your heart was rendered into a steaming pile of smoldering flesh.

How much you loved.

How you met your soulmate at 15.

Flesh out your poetry with extragavant adjectives

and fail-filled adverbs, the bane of my existence

Tell me how your heart breaks--

--misspelling simple words

which jerk me out of your 'work'

--if you may call it that--

and remind me, yet again...

 

You haven't even begun to live.

 

Doublespace. 

Time for a new, overwrought, overused metaphor

Tell me about how you bleed for him.

How you have become a caged bird

begging for freedom.

 

I want to be freed from bad poetry, dearheart.

 

Why do you so enslave me?

 

Tell me how your tears fall in torrents

How your world has become wreathed in dark leaves and thieves

And you still don't know how to spell

--or the difference between 'their' and 'they're'

 

Oh, you Emo Poets, you are so enlightened.

Tell me about your wisdom.

15.

And just beginning to conceive of the myriad forms that love can take.

 

Let me set a scene before you now:

Because one day you will live it.

You will find this shit you've written

A decade from now.

Perhaps two.

And you will cringe from it.

And you will password protect it

Burn it to a CD and hide it.

Because you will be ashamed of how arrogant you were

By how much you ASSumed you knew.

Or, if you have truly grown, you will realize how silly it all was.

And laugh, remembering.

And then you will know what enlightenment is.

 

You will know that enlightment is not a destination.

 

It is a path.

 

And you have just set your feet upon it.

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