Not Sorry

Finish school, get your degree.
Men won’t like your tattoos.
Why do you still dye your hair pink?
You’ve got your whole damn life to lose.
Travel now, while you’re young.
Take better care of your skin.
Be more careful, keep your legs closed;
People will know where you’ve been.

I’ll grow out my armpit hair
And shave my fucking head,
I’ll sleep in my car that I paid too much for
And write poems that don’t rhyme.

I’ll share adventures with my Facebook feed
Or I’ll just stay in bed,
I’ll finish my master’s degree
Because I want to though, not because you think I should.

I’ll dream of far off places
And have magic journeys across the sea,
ill stop using punctuation and rhythm for the sake of this metaphor
I’m a master of the English language and I will pervert it however I wish.

What I have is what I’ve built
What I’ve built is fickle as fuck
Fuck is pretty fucking fickle
All those F sounds make something called alliteration.

I’m not so young,
But I’m not old enough to know better.
I’m not as smart as I think I am,
I’m just as stupid as I’ve ever been.

And I’m not sorry.


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