high school poetry

Guilty As Charged

I write poetry.
I choose to read books like The Brothers Karamozov.
I like foreign films, often only because they aren’t from America.
I listen to Enya. And the Magnetic Fields. And AFI. And The Streets. And I enjoy them equally.
I know most of the words to a currently popular rap song.
I don’t hate school.
I like deconstructing literature.
I like happy endings, but I don’t believe in them.
I still cannot quite forswear love.
I believe, painfully, all that I am skeptical of.
I am a hopeless romantic.
I am a cynic that cannot stand the sentimental.
I find it easier to believe in pain than in happiness.
I strive for perfection.
I know that perfection is not possible.
I mistrust all easy ways.
I believe all rules of unconditional forgiveness apply to everyone but me.
I believe that trees really can talk, just not to me.
I wish I could dance. Or run. Or even play soccer with skill and grace.
I am a hypocrite.
I always act as if someone is constantly watching, even my thoughts. Sometimes I think it’s me.
I think too much.
I lie to myself.
I write poetry.

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