The Problem

Are you offended by my looks?

Does my color make you cringe?

Or is it the necklace, bracelet, nose ring.

Or is it the word that offends you?

The syllables that I uncover and sing.

No reservations, honestly so,

cause you see, I say things as they are,

naked, bare, I let them flow.

Oh I'm terribly sorry,

I apologize that... what? YOU are offended?

I apologize that I am the way I am;

truly, really, so sorry.

So. Sorry.

Not sorry. Not a bit.

Because... what? I am the problem?

Oh no sir, YOU are the issue here

it's become much more than clear.

And it's time for me to clear up my words too,

and trust me, of you I have no fear.

I. Will not. Apologize. For being. As I am.

Not any more, not once more even

in the darkest of nights and loneliest of ages,

I will not let you take away my pages.

Because this notebook cannot afford to lose any more,

because it's becoming much emptier than before.

Perhaps I've been too harsh.

Your mind is the problem and you are the curer,

all you need to do is be a bit truer,

to your inner being.

And trust me, you will come clean.

Reload

My 2nd (ish) attempt at "for fun" poetry/spoken word

Just when you'd think it's all over and done,

a final blow comes.

You can't dodge it so you take it in the chest

with no warning, no message, simply strange.

Thoughts and memories all get stirred up,

you try and try but no new epiphany whirls out.

And you reload. Reload.

But no new results come up.

You do the research, read the relevant literature.

But no. Nothing.

You're left with a cloud of questions

a bunch of "What did I do?" 's

and "What went wrong?" 's

But you lost a friend and nothing really can be done.

But reload.