Twitter Girls

This is a very old slam poem, written by me, found in the archives of my computer. I wrote this on June 5, 2017. It’s fun to see how writing evolves over time.

Hope you all enjoy this throwback! 

P.S. I still don’t have or believe in Twitter

I don’t have a twitter account anymore.

I used to have one; I deleted it right after my paramour and I split.

That shit is dangerous.

“I finally know that I’m pretty. Because a twenty five year old man on the internet told me so.”

I was proud of that once.

I was proud of the number 6, 6, 6.

I was proud of being 17 and “promiscuous.”

 

I didn’t do things for the right reasons.

I’ve been with a guy in every season.

Therapy after therapy after “I know you’ll make the right decision”

I didn’t.

I did get in that white van. Twice.

I did drive over to his place shouting to myself “WHAT AM I DOING?”

I knew what I was doing.

I was making bad decisions to fight the system.

Trying to fight customs.

“Elder morals” is what I called ‘em.

Most of the time those morals are wrong.

Slavery—

This country was founded on slavery.

Bribery.

Donald J. Trumpery.

But my morals took some discovery.

 

Discovery in a mental hospital in the end of March

because of this guy

because of this terrible guy

and my bad decisions, decisions, decisions. What should I eat?

Hamburger or hot dog?

There were two dinner choices every night in the hospital.

I ran at the opportunity to go outside to the playground because

I was feeling down most of the time.

Then I met someone

I know it sounds bad

But he wasn’t there because of cutting and abusing drugs like me.

I met someone who was free.

I met someone who played D&D.

I met someone who was normal.

I met someone and I fell in love.

 

I went into Dominion an edgy teen and left even edgier.

And anyone who wants to listen; I implore you to hear:

Quit getting caught up in things you shouldn’t do

Things you don’t want to do

Things that aren’t you.

I know you won’t listen, just as I didn’t

“Let me make my own decisions”

But they weren’t.

“At least it feels good in the moment”

But it didn’t.

“I won’t have to pay the consequences”

But I did.

 

Just know there is someone here who gets it

Who chased boy after man and bets that

There is someone out there who went through it like me

and someone out there who’s about to start it—he or she.

I’ll be here too, a living example

Of someone who lives with the pain.

 

I live with my decisions every day and they haunt me.

Memories float through my mind like apparitions

But I see through them

Just as we all have to

See through the past and you can do this.

Break through the cycle of wanting to feel

so much you give everything you have to so many people.

It doesn’t work.

You can’t make it work.

I’ve tried.

 

I see the Twitter famous girls

They aren’t us, girls

She doesn’t have to be you

You can be you.

Make your own life, don’t follow a template for a life that’s loud.

Am I saying something you already know?

Good. Then please, live a life by which you are proud.

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