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Published May 14, 2009 More Info »
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Published May 14, 2009
I am a natural redhead.Freshman year, I was walking to Ms. Brooks' World History class and someone yelled "fire crotch" at me... again.The result was this poem written February 25th, 2000. I was so distraught I couldn't even think of a title for it. "Untitled"I stand Frozen by the terrorOf the coldest wordsSpat at meBy the villainWith no purposeOr none that I can think of.I am confused and unsure.Not blinding, thinking,Not knowing howTo position my face,Project my words,But I barely know What words are.If only I can reachAnd graspWhat circulates in your head.To view what happens next.Do you knowWhat I should do?In those few moments,What should I say?During the black seconds?Or do youNot think at allBefore you spit?Finally, I felt I also needed to include this poem as well. Apparently, during high school, I felt very lost and had no sense of identity. Upon rereading this poem now, all I probably needed to do, then, was masturbate more often. This very short poem is entitled "The Search" and was written March 8, 2000.Brushing my handOn the surface of the EarthTo react to a bump or a holeThat's been waiting for me.Thanks for a fun week, FoD. I'll go back to taking out your trash now.