Girl – A new poem

Posted: September 3, 2013 in Poetry by Natasha Ramsey
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright 2013 – Natasha Ramsey

Girl 

I am a girl who,

who, who…

I am a girl who doesn’t know what she doesn’t know

But what I do know, I’ll tell the world and

you too.

Only, the world doesn’t care,

the world doesn’t hear my

screams at night.

To be fair

I don’t either.

Thanks to Haldol in recommended doses and this

hypo-allergenic feather pillow.

I was told I tend to wallow in deep, deep,

deep, despair. Maybe there were more “deeps” in that description

but after two does it really make a difference?

I’m told to say things out loud as affirmative thoughts into the world.

“See me! I am here!”

Fuck this bullshit. I’m here.

Who gave anyone the right to stare life in the eyes and

be bold,

cry,

scream.

To do anything?

I wish someone would tell them all

to try this therapy and leave me the fuck alone.

Girls like me are a joke.

A test, a challenge, a dare of

how much amusement I can provide to a bully’s peers.

Kristie, Kirsten, Allie, Ben, Jason, Chaz, Justin…

they’re all the same

Just called by different names.

Me, the eating disorder joke to share

in class, amidst whispers of

“I bet she shivers and gags when she swallows,

if she even does boys.”

Girls like me are used as placeholders till others come along.

You gloss over, look through,

and up my skirt to determine worth.

Wax on and wax off mutherfucker, I’m not for sale –

To you anyway.

This sad domain you call society ruled by men and royalty

mean absolutely nothing to me.

I am your new social norm.

Trying to navigate a culture formed on

angst, bulimia, binge drinking, coloring.

Purging through cutting,

Bleeding monthly.

Gateway to escaping the well-traveled mind.

My heart fills spaces in time to

nothing and no one.

This rainbow oreo

Doesn’t fit in.

Girls like me aren’t straight but we’re not necessarily gay.

Girls like me aren’t sad but we’re not necessarily happy.

Girls like me aren’t at peace but we are at peace. Maybe.

Confused? Don’t be.

A good book, a good cry – it’s all the same.

Don’t try to understand because I don’t see a change

coming any time soon.

Let me be miserable.

In time, I’ll heal.

Trying to survive in this crazy world

Do you think?
does she know…?

Does anyone know

everything is:

Fuckable,

Likeable,

Enjoyable,

Cringeable?

I don’t see the point in any of this.

I’m me.

You’re you.

My brown skin don’t impress upon you thoughts

that flow rampantly in and out of my mind.

I hear that’s a sign of creativity but

Then there’s that thin line between genius and crazy.

Since genius is not me

I’ll stick to crazy

Familiarity breeds freedom.

This fuckdom you call society

Isn’t for me.

I’ll take my crazy, non-straight, label-free lifestyle elsewhere.

I’m free.

I’m free.

Maybe.

Copyright 2013. Natasha Ramsey

Courtesy of Hungover Poet

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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