Don’t stop listening

Before I speak 

Wait- Nevermind 

I think it’s better to just not speak 

For a while it was quiet there

yet

You listened more to my silence than me

I think it’s better never to tell anyone anything

Because then you don’t have to deal with the pain of no one listening 

See, 

I could tell you the story of the tortoise and the hare

But I think you’d like the story of the jackrabbit and the box turtle more 

patience is not a virtue 

The jackrabbit kicked in the turtles door 

And sure the box turtle had previously won

But an hour later and the jackrabbit had his entire family’s blood splattered on the floor

My wish is not to be patient 

I wish to scream 

The only way you’ll listen is for me to juxtapose my silence but doing so replaces my need of your consideration which you have set limitations

So wait- Nevermind

I think it is better to just not speak 

But before your attention span is disposed

There’s this proverb and it goes

Even if a princess kicks a teapot off the table

And I want to change the meaning there a little bit 

Because even if I were to scream and replace my limitations for what I thought deserved to be your considerations you would not be listening 

Haha, I’m sorry

I think I’m kind of full of it

There’s this itchy bottomless pit which tastes of steel

My fingers are sometimes still, unable to feel

And I tend to go a little bonkers, a little mad

See there’s this child within me who’s always sad

And I cannot let her go she needs my guidance

I think we leave too many of us behind 

We forget what it means to not enjoy the silence 

So, no 

Uh, let me correct myself 

I think it’s better to speak 

Because whether or not you enjoy it 

Why should I the hatter, the princess, the 

jackrabbit 

Spare your feelings 

Give you your eternity of silence 

When you’re the one who’s not listening

So now. You’re going to listen.

While I speak.

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And he asked “why?”

“Perfection is weakness, that stops anytime”

I begged for loose long hair

That cascaded down my back

And a back hairless

Connected to long skinny legs

I cried for a small nose

With a sharp beautiful tip

One that would brush against another’s

While a smile graced our lips

I sobbed for a love

One like no other

One impossible to diminish

In the face of obstacles

God did not answer

Punished me with long fat fingers

Average fat legs

And hair that barely grows past my shoulders

I asked a higher being for perfection

And they too asked “why?”

“Perfection is subjective, and changes all the time”

I begged for my sideburns,

Though natural, seen as unfeminine and vulgar,

To disappear in a mist and die by their lonesome 

I cried for no double chin

And an order of pink luscious lips

To touch another’s

While my mind raced 

To say “I love you” without fear of being pushed away

I sobbed for a love

Any love

Romantic, platonic, I wouldn’t care

To love my body rolls, insecurities and tubs of envy

A love stemmed from perfection, even if only temporary

But the higher being did not answer 

Punished me with loneliness

Long fat fingers

Average fat legs

Hair that barely grows past my shoulders

Sideburns

Body rolls, insecurities, a tub of envy
And a double chin 

I asked for perfection, my greatest fantasy, but was left empty in my own insanity.

Isn’t that funny? 

How begging works, I mean. 

To hope for something so direly, only to be pushed away.

I still beg for perfection, except I no longer have hope. Because for me perfection is impossible, an empty wish that is worshipped by a tub of envy whilst forever being a hoax.

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