I wasn't meant

Rhyming poem on, I suppose, reflections. I include a lot of literary references.

I wasn’t ever born to be a lady

I could never stand and command

I was just born to be a daughter

A sister, lover, and friend

 

I could never have played Ophelia

How would I remember the lines?

I wouldn’t be able to function, anyways

In that, chauvinist dystopian time.

 

I might have been a scientist

I might have sailed the seas

But, instead I chose to stay here

And write down what I please.

 

It doesn’t always make sense

And it doesn’t always rhyme

I get lost on meter

And I could never really keep time

 

And when I marveled jealously,

At someone, someone not you

I begun to learn that cracks are there

And shine through on the truth.

 

I could never be a roamer

And travel through all times

Instead I can be a poet

And travel on paper’s lines.

 

And if you so happened

To be burning, books and truth

I wouldn’t stand there, in the dew

And teach you with my youth

 

And we’d still take the drug

Surviving, on addictive soma

And we’d all still be lost

In that endless waking coma

 

I would never take your hand

And wobble through a waltz

I’d never put on a ring

And swear you all that’s false.

 

It used to be that when I heard

A melancholy love song play

I’d shake my head, turn off the car

And quickly walk away.

 

And every time I play team sports

I end up in a rage

Cause I can’t lose and I can’t win

All I can do is fill a page.

 

I was never meant to be anyone’s lover

I’m not tender, nor am I kind

I do not lay, in silver dresses

And whisper through your mind

 

I do not run across white plains

I cannot cut your hair

My hands would shake

And, anyways, I wouldn’t want to be there

 

I’m not meant to be a hostess

To throw a party while you die

In twenty-fours hours, I can get

The flowers, by myself, I’ll try.

 

And if I were to be a priestess

I’d fumble all the world

And the Goddess wouldn’t send me

Out on the front lines, flag unfurled

 

And if I were to go off

To the revolution, that June dawn

I’d leave and run, through the sewers

Before the other boys caught on.

 

And whenever I’d sit down to play

The piano, over there

I’d sit up straight with fingers out

And push back my brown hair

 

But the notes never came

And they were never quite right

And I certainly couldn’t play

To put you to sleep that night.

 

And I tried to be an astronomer

But wonder and science raged

A war, a war with no answer

Not knowing they were both on the same page.

 

And answers are worse than questions

For it is in questions, you find truth

Answers just lead to more problems

And never concrete proof. 

 

And I was never meant to sing a love song

I’ve never lusted, anyways

I’ve only loved others,

Not been crushed or wept for days

 

I could never really write poetry

The lines just wouldn’t come out right

And each second ticked away

Until it went from dawn to night.