Don't Expect the Context.

Should I strive to be more like you?
I feel judged for so many things.
My passion,
my views,
my faults.
Yet behind so many of those judgments
feels to be you.
Am I an adult?
Do I truly know what it is that I speak of?
Is my work too dark? Should I stop?
No, the question is should you stop.
I am an individual. I love the earth,
and I love my work.
But it's not for you. It never was!
I write, draw, dream for myself. For me.
And you take my thoughts and slice them apart.
God dammit, I am not a machine!
And I am no reflection of you - I'm me!
Eighteen years of running a body I've spent ages agonizing for,
Eternities finding who I am, and more forevers for me to redefine and define!
Your words, your "truths", sting like the ashes of the burning knife you press against my skin.
No longer. I am not your cutting block.
I am me. When I look into the mirror, I yearn to see myself.
I don't want to see you over my goddamn shoulder.
It blurs the image into ashy fog.

***

So that's something I wrote a few days ago. I won't lie - this is a fairly personal poem, like many poems are, although I didn't expect that I was really going to post it. But the angst has been growing a little bit, and I figured since it was a good piece of poetry coming from me anyways, I figured I'd show it off, as it were.

You might be able to expect another post tonight - I have some videos I'd like to share, but I don't know if that will get up tonight or not. I am SICK, with the sore-throated and congested deal. Feels a little like I've snorted hot sauce and lemon juice, but never mind that.

I haven't forgotten the AC posts either, by the way; my life's just being a little weird these days. But I will try to post ASAP, whether that's again tonight or sometime tomorrow.