Dress for Success "And be sure to pack something nice with you, just in case we have to dress up."Dress for Success3 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The words echoed in my mind as I gazed at the dress hanging in my closet, alone and hardly used.
And the words swirled and spun through my brain like a toilet being flushed.
"I don't want to wear a dress, Mother. I want to wear a suit," I said for the thousandth time, listlessly poking at my broccoli. I pretended that I had just survived the first wave of a zombie attack and I was prodding at a dead zombie to find weapons on the body that I could use upon the upcoming attack.
"Are you serious? You have a beautiful dress that you never wear that'll be nice if you go to an opera. And Lord knows you'll get some culture infused into you with that woman," my mom laughed through a bite of her food.
I took a breath and killed another zombie with my fork before saying, "Why can't I wear a suit? I'd look really good. Dresses make me feel...exposed."
My mother scoffed. "I
Nature's a Heartbreaker.They say that nature's perfectNature's a Heartbreaker.4 months ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
But that's not always true
People tell you what you should be
When all you want to be is you
Just because she has a pretty face
Doesn't mean that she's a 'she'
Floral print, pink ribbon, lace
When all I want to be is me
It's difficult to find the words
To say what's really on your mind
Sometimes it's best to just sit back
Watch nature work, unwind
But I've always been a gentleman
I've known it from the start
Small hands, a pretty figure
Nature truly broke my heart
But tears shed at the end are wasted
Because your body's just a shell
And to think you're ruled by nature's laws
You'd be better off in Hell
You are not your body
And your body isn't you
Remember who you really are
To thine own self be true
Just a little message.You can’t tell me who I am.Just a little message.4 months ago in Emotional More Like This
You can’t tell me what I am.
You can’t tell me who to love.
You can’t tell me who to befriend.
You can’t tell me who I can hang out with.
Your standards do not fit me, and I do not fit them.
You insist that you know me, yet you know nothing.
You call me disgusting for who I want to be with.
You call me wrong for who I call friend.
You feel sorry for me for what I believe is right.
But you are the one who is wrong.
I am not gay.
I am not straight.
I am not boy.
I am not girl.
I am not black.
I am not white.
I am human.
And I will not change.