Who Are You?A Poem by tekphobikA spoken word piece, modified very slightly for the internet.
So who are you to look at me with such doleful eyes
Eyes hidden behind cups half-raised As you pretend not to hear every syllable I - Wait who is this guy? Ah! Now I have your rapt attention, good. We can finally pull ourselves up off the floor Too much of the same thing gone round and round Do you even know who you are anymore? Are you the living and breathing dictionary With your companion thesaurus dragging behind Condemning, contemplating, and commiserating Misunderstood melodrama waiting for a contract to sign? Maybe you're the dark girl, the failed one, The child where no sunlight has dared to shine Wrapping your rosary of barbed wire around us Vehemently strangling off the cries and whines What about being the twenty-first century gangster All dressed up in the latest fashion threads Showing off all the money you shouldn't have And returning home to your brand name beds Look, you're the druggie, all junked up And constantly pushing for the next big fix Disregarding yourself to feed yourself And never quite knowing what makes you tick Better yet, you're the femboy all skinny With tossed up hair rumpled so perfectly Pale, smooth and so unsure of your sexuality But that's okay because you're fifteen and allowed to be up until four in the morning on some dingy writing website listening to words being spoken by a man who looks like he could use another six drinks and maybe a shave but this isn't really about me so... Perhaps you're the yuppie with a tricked out cell It can only hold fifteen billion songs, but it seems That only ten of them were ever listened to And the rest just aren't good enough for mainstream I see, you're the creampuff princess type All feather boas and luxuries in soft pink Daddy's little girl got lost on the seedy web Full of dark things and intoxicating drink Oh, you're not? You're the new-age punk then Spikes, rings and all dressed in leatherettes Doesn't care what anyone says about his mohawk Secret desires for a fashionable return to fishnets I think I know you, you're my sleek mink coat woman All Rolls Royce with your perfect teeth and hair Practically dripping with sexuality and sin Soulless eyes and hips and not a single care I recognize you, you're that angry guy who Nothing on this planet is ever good enough for But I'm happy you do what you do... Angry guy, Because if you didn't hate me so much I might not get any attention up here right now... And that's all I ever wanted. © 2011 tekphobikAuthor's Note
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Added on May 13, 2011Last Updated on May 21, 2011 Tags: identity, mask, stereotype, irony AuthortekphobikRed Deer, Alberta, CanadaAboutI live for the words. Artistry is taking pieces of your soul out and throwing them against a wall to make someone else feel something or experience some sort of insight. It's the only thing worth li.. more..Writing
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