If I were normal maybe things would be different,
If I didn’t paint my nails black,
Rip my jeans,
Or listen to screamo and christofer drew.
Maybe if my toenails weren’t bubblegum pink
Pepto bismal pink
Hidden by bright socks
And dirty converse
That I’ve owned for a year, and have been well loved.
Maybe if I didn’t straighten my hair,
And love the burned edges
Because I think they’re so pretty
Dead and draping
Over my tiny shoulders.
Or if I weren’t crazy
Happy and squirrely
A devoted Beatles lover
Kurt Cobain’s only stalker
With a pet rat named
Chrysanthemum
And scratch marks covering my body
From her baby nails.
Maybe life would be easier
If I didn’t think it was funny
To scare people
To shock people
With my crazy antics
And killer
Suicide poems.
And If I didn’t cut myself
To chase off pain
And get a high
Weed and ecstasy don’t provide,
Because nothing’s the same
As slicing your skin.
Maybe life would be better,
Maybe everyone would adore me,
If I drabbed up my life with
Prep snob ego tones
And adorned my body with
Flimsy fifty buck name-brand t-shirts
That don’t express me at all
But shove in my face the cloned up society
I work hard to avoid.
So maybe I’m a better me
In my second hand skinny jeans
Straightened bangs
And bright purple eye shadow,
Loving who I am.