I wrote this poem after listening to Lana Del Rey’s “Fked My Way Up To The Top,” a song that resonated with my own experiences of betrayal and disillusionment.
I guess no one would know,
Everyone assumes I am here for a shallow show.
Scheming and waiting for the right moment,
To put my soul in an endless torment.
If that were true, I'd be climbing another pole,
Not dig deep and go down the rabbit hole.
Easy to throw these pebbles and stones,
And I’ll take it until I'm just flesh covered in bones.
They say they don’t like my tone,
Maybe it’s because I’m in a different time zone.
Yeah, love to throw in words like "b*tch" and "wh*re,"
But they imagined what it would be like to have them on their floor.
You talk of God, love, and life partner,
Then ask questions like, "What's your favourite colour?"
As if I’m a kindergartner.
Umm, well I was learning about the xylem,
And still, they would have me stay in a mental asylum.
Picking on girls with bicep flex,
Then wanting simple girls, because I am too complex.
Watching porn for fleeting pleasure,
Thinking I missed out on their eternal treasure.
Sure, go ahead and talk about the intellectual level,
And then say I’m the spawn of Satan, a pure devil.
If that’s true, then file your petition,
A name in bureaucratic litigation.
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