On portrait day
They stuff you into
that dress
Navy blue with red
stitching
Like delicate wounds
-
And that white
collar
Choking a chubby
neck
Over which messy
Blonde curls tumble;
Like you -
Never knowing their
place.
Unaware of yourself,
This bundle of
flaws,
You drift
Down drab,
screeching corridors
To sit before a
Pastel-from-hell
backdrop
For the
photographer, a
Corduroy horror-show
of
Slapstick jabs.
A camera flash and
You crumple your
face
Into a smile, not
quite foreign
As forlorn thoughts
Have yet to
strike.
Patience... as
Patience... as
Strange laughter
rolls past your
Ears like lilting
wind
And you are forever
captured
In a frame.
Developed photos
spark
Enveloping
self-consciousness
Soon to fit like a
glove
Through adolescent
throes
Of self-loathing and
Media’s cliched
hate.
Then in control of
being
Out of control
With your own
destruction,
Self-worth
disintegrates
And it hits. It
hits. It hits:
You’re unlovable.
Body, face,
personality,
Mind.
Heart?
In the midst of
self-hatred,
Be sure to achieve.
Be sure to smile
Whether you are
lonely or not
As you
Languish gleefully
under
Rapid-fire questions
About “who you
are” that
Rifle through your
personal life
Without anyone ever
really asking,
“Who you
are.”
So you retreat
within yourself
And...
After all these
years
You shelve what you
were told.
But misinformation
Collects dust like
old books;
You cannot fully
escape.
Yet one day, the
rain will
Fall a certain way,
Or a glance will
catch your eye;
Untamed,
You’ll wander;
you’ll stray;
And realize...
You never had to
live a one-way life.
Well, you’ll
wonder:
If no one ever told
you what you wanted,
Would you still know
what you want?
