So here we are.
Today’s Horribly Local Poor Poetry Month (HoLoPoPoMo) entry is from the point of view of a 16 year-old girl:
lament
by tiffani
high school ennui
strangling, suffocatingly
aching, yearning to be free
no one can hear, no one can see
the pain, the depth, the gravity
so sick of popularity
bored with necking until three
the football game, the pep rally
i’m back-to-back homecoming quee’
my peachy face without acne
i want to run, i want to flee
so tired of my cup size, C
and being oh so bosomy
my tummy flat and hips fat free
my steady boyfriend timothy
my shiny hair, brushed tediously
it’s always soft and feathery
my texts all start with omg
i smile emoticonally
my perfect nose, sans surgery
and lips that taste like strawberry
this monster i have come to be
oh god! why me? why me? why me?
The end.
I wrote the first draft of this about ten years ago, long before this web...blah...blog was even a glimmer in my eye... but it has stayed buried in my hard drive since then, because there aren’t many places where can one publish a bad poem that’s supposedly written by someone fictional. Ah, self-publishing... where would legitimately odd crap be without you?
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.
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