Tuesday, December 4, 2018


by Brenda Romconfan

They treated you like a dog
So you became a wolf
They called you cry baby
and your eyes became a desert
(you didn't even cry at the funeral of the dog)
They called you soft
And you traded in the softness for claws
They called you too innocent
so you unfeathered the angel on your right shoulder
then showed him how to cuss, listen to gangster rap, and throw some dirty punches to protect himself from bullies and idle threats
They mocked you for playing with dollies and teddy bears
and you reacted by punishing those childish things
tore their heads off in anger, and hid the bodies under the bed
Then leaned to wield daggers and swords
This is not cruelty
This is adaption to hostility
Don't hide your heart behind a hat anymore
cage it back for protection in the shelter of ribs
Melt all this pain and broken pieces of you into arms and ammunition
They have pathetic plastic sporks to threaten you with
but never counted on you getting up from the wreckage of doubt with a black obsidian knife
Distorted perceptions and fun house mirrors make chickens and phonies look like killers
so shatter their image by throwing the stone of your heart at the dead center of the facade
Tears may come still but now their job is to streams off your face and nurture the grass warriors walk on. Tears will mix with the mud used to paint skulls and cross bones 💀 on sullied surrender flags and war paint on your face as you squint your eyes like a badass at danger.
But don't you dare take off the steel armor
steel gleams
It's the armor of queens
you are fierce
made of bullets...
the armor is now part of your skin
The knife permanently fused to your hand
You are still here unextinct in the wilderness of man
And despite a few shallow puncture wounds, and no toys to play with... you didn't die
You adapted


Brenda Romconfan started jotting some poems down as a side effect of insomnia in 2018. She is convinced that her head is a giant volley ball covered with honey where random memories, thoughts and rhymes get stuck. What you are reading is just the words buzzing around this sticky sphere.


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