"A Letter To Society,"

"A Letter To Society,"

A Poem by PoeT4994
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A letter to society,
I want you to tear me down like you always have.
Make me bleed from my culture.
Tear me esteem from the parts in their perfect.
Rip my split ends open and show me all the ugly inside.
Tell me my lips make you think of grizzly bears.
And my skin is nothing short of hated.
Make my ears drench in blood from all the statements you have.
Break me like the wind against the sea.
Make me feel useless like a bee with no stinger.
Just do this for me, and I’ll kiss you with my grizzlies.
Hug you with my hatred.
Let you rebraid my bad looks back into me.
I will sew my esteem back together again.
And patch my culture up, tell it it still has a place here, make it rest till it gets better.
I will stand again.
While you sit here, with your bag full of empty stingers, like overrun credit cards.
Trying to muscle your way across the face of Atlas.
Just to tell me how pathetic I am.
Don’t you see you are nothing but a jelly fish sting to my nothing.
I have a mind like crystal globe encasing.
And you can not get through it.
Try.
Try as much as you want, I will stand, my pride in the air.
Whispering like someone with a little bit of everything to say.
‘You can’t get me.’
Laughing.
In your face.
Watching you fall like city streets.
Skin melting off of you.
Eyes popping like confetti rockets.
Imploding into yourself.
Because you realize you are nothing more than a kick in the shin.
And you can’t phase me.
Society, please, tell me all the things I want to hear, let me know when you’re done so I can keep walking.
Because you’re just wasting my time.
Do I care what you say, do I care what you call me, or what you suggest?
No.
Infinintly no.
Definitively no.
My back may be like a gargoyle, hunched and hard.
My face may be like dog, uglishly cute.
But I could care less.
You are but a tipsy chip on my shoulder.
Ready to fall of at the slightest shrug.
And when I wake up in the morning, I think I just might feel like stretching.
So you can gift wrap yourself and hand it back to me from the ground when you hit home hard, I’ll be waiting for our second go around.
And I’ll have one question...doesn’t it feel so glorifying to be stepped on???

© 2010 PoeT4994


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Added on July 7, 2010
Last Updated on July 7, 2010