the Angry Girl

[ finally, see ]

i feel like i'm finally free of you, i don't quite know what to do.

oh, your thoughts, how they plagued me -

now my own can be seen.

they say to be your own self, don't be defined by something else.

however, i find it quite hard;

the books of love, the movies of beauty, the poems hate, the world of cruelty.

how can i not be defined by the boy of desires?

or because some say i'll go to hell if i dare call her name in my sleep.

what am i, if not depressed or angry?

i've had that all my life, what should i do,

now that i am not?

i am not the prettiest, my body isn't flat as a table,

curvy as the waves,

small as the dresses in the local mall.

i can't stand their hate; i don't have in me to be the same way.

i don't care for your gender or your lover.

what is perfection, if not original and undistorted?

so label me, if you should ; i won't care at all.

i won't bother labeling you for something you're not;