Poem I wrote

The Bookworm's picture

Not how I feel presently but I wanted to post it anyway....

Not of Lying:

Staying in PJs
past 2pm
and watching movies on the computer.
plodding around the internet
reading entire book series
Skipping breakfast
Eating Ramen or leftovers when I’m hungry
Which isn’t till 1 at the earliest
playing guitar
Prowling the house
looking for something to do
blasting music
that my parents would raise their eyebrows at
not for profanity or explicitly
but because they don’t equate it with me.
This is me alone.

This is not who my parents know.
Not the girl they raised, the girl they
expect me to be.
They think they have me figured out.
In their own way they’ve forced me into a box
and though I push against the lid
the weight of their probable disappointment
is too much for me.
They think they know me better than I do.
They don’t know me at all,
don’t understand who I am
how I express myself
and why I express myself the way I do.
Fine with my sexuality
but unable to comprehend
why it was important for me to come out.
I told them I was sick of lying.

In reality, though,
I came out because
who I was inside
was so distant from who everyone saw outside
that a pit of snakes grew in my belly
and I retreated inside myself
to fight them, prevent them from eating me alive
and so did not live on the outside any more.
I was sick, not of lying, but of everyone assuming I was one person
when I knew I was another.

I am sick, not of lying, but of my parents assuming I’m one person
when I know I am another
Yet the box stays closed
and I ponder:
they don’t know me at all
how well
do I really know them?


funnyflyby's picture

That's great...

I feel like that a lot... minus the coming-out part. I haven't gotten to that yet... best to wait until the court case is over :) I don't think the stupid judge is particularly liberal...
But great poem.

lonewolf678's picture


love the poem.