Busted Halo
I busted my halo long ago,
didn’t like the weight
of it constantly hovering
over my head tell
me and world
that I was suppose
to be a pretty perfect person.
I can picture my halo
unsteadily slipping, falling
to the ground. A golden
ring that shimmers as it hits
the ground and shatters into
a million tiny pieces of glitter.
Free now to strike
a wrong chord, step on
cracks, stand up and not
back down because sometimes
the truth needs to be told
even if it hurts.
Yeah, being halo-free
came with some challenges.
But I still prefer
to dance shoeless in the rain.
Headphone Infatuation
Carrying my music
crisply, cleanly to
my brain. Finally
peace.
Untitled
Some days I walk
with my head down,
headphones and sunglasses
firmly in place. With
my hair flattened.
I try to blend into
the sidewalk,
buildings, and walls.
Then there are days like
today, in which I’m staring
right back at a primly
dressed woman dining at
the coffee shop who can’t stop
looking over at me, a cross
between curiosity and annoyance
in her eyes. I’ve been minding
my own business for the better
part of an hour, writing. Yet
I can assure you that it’s
my mohawk that’s caught
her attention, along with my
beat up black hoodie that’s
faded and a little holey.
Yeah, the decor of the shop
lends itself more to the hippies,
hipsters, and coffee-aficionados,
but today I don’t care that
I stand out. I know
who I am, and that’s good
enough for me.
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