uhm

uhm, I think I used to be a writer
I think I used to be a straight A student
that strived for the better
that got what I wanted
on the outside ..?

I don’t know.
I used to express this on paper,
when I wished I was a cusp
or that I could run or sing or dance
but all I had was a paper and pencil
and all I had were eyes
that could only see who was better and what I could never achieve

uhm, I think I used to be good at writing
I could write for hours
at a kitchen table
I could draw out these words and form lullabies to the low lives and hymns for the high lives

I could make sense of the world of words
They were a gateway to another world
and they held me tightly
a comfort in the granite and paper

uhm, but now I’m not so sure
I can hardly form a sentence, I don’t even know what I don’t know
I think I’m passing but I’m failing
I think I’m not being me but I’m in my body
I think I’m talking too much or too little
I think or do I feel or do I believe?

I think I used to be somebody
somebody with a name and an idea
somebody with an imagination and
somebody that could speak their mind
but now I think or I know
I am somebody but I don’t know that somebody anymore
I don’t know my name anymore
I cant conjure an idea or thought
I cant think for myself or I can but I choose not to

uhm, yea I think I was a girl with dreams
but now I’m a genderfluid nobody
that’s a lesbian and can’t write properly
so because of that here’s a poem on how I feel
cause I was told a poem could be anything
and this isn’t very structured,
sorry,
I’m not the straight A or straight girl I was
I think I was a writer but today I don’t know who I am.