vid:mine

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Get to know me meme [16/20] Favorite female characters: Felicity Smoak
If I had accepted things, I would be a cocktail waitress in Vegas like my mother and I never would have gone to college and I never would have moved a thousand miles away to work at Queen Consolidated and I never would have believed some crazy guy in a hood when he told me I could be more than just some I.T. girl.

Bad poem has no curfew. Stays out
until the crows start cawing. Sleeps
in the flower beds with the squirrels.  
Yawns itself awake by sunset. Says no
to the broccoli on its plate.  

Bad poem like yesterday’s clothes
and last week’s leftovers. Bad poem
like messy pasta and shredded cheese.  
Bad poem like skipped meals and missed
appointments. Bad poem like egg yolk.  

Bad poem knows how to kick and how to
scream. Knows the rules of the road
but doesn’t follow them. Bad poem says,
“I know you are but what am I?” Bad poem
leaves cracks in your windshield.  

Bad poem like bad dancer. Stringy limbs  
and no rhythm. Bad poem cuts corners and
doesn’t plan. Leaves abruptly and then
stumbles in to say, “It won’t happen
again.” Bad poem says, “I’m sorry”.  

Bad poem weeps. Bad poem with a hangover.
Bad poem as a good listener. Bad poem
always has a shoulder to cry on. Bad poem
opens another bottle of wine. Bad poem is
lonely. Bad poem sleeps naked.  

Bad poem remembers all the details. Gives
 birth to a thousand baby poems. Names them
all “you”. Colors every eye green. Bad
poem as bad mother. Neglects the other
children. Bad poem plays favorites.

—  Kelsey Danielle, “Bad Poem”