"Going Full Circle" by Olivia Lathrom
wafts and tendrils of
thinly veiled truths,
multiple measures taken
in case of catastrophe
that lead to an answer so much
like that of submission and
apathy
scarred on a canvas so dark it’s almost
unrecognizable as human
to the point of which a mentality of
likelihood becomes
unlikely
to let go of that twisted form
that technique that critiques only the most
talented of
artists
killed by their art
as if their pieces weren’t
a piece of their scattered soul
tarnished by probabilities so grand
as to rock the foundation of
reality
so skewed as to offset a mind so
complex that it would
short circuit should you mention dreaded
normality
by standards of society
is the only acceptable way to behave
with shaved legs and lengthy hair
that signalizes our
femininity
so toxic that we choke on the pinks
the fabric that hold our breasts
we must hold close to our hearts
despite our unwillingness to claim our
gender
is dead,
it is a fake separated by
sex and biology that should never
be a key point of
influence
begins at the start of all relationships the
instant you came into this world
and is rejected when the beginning
formations of invading
thoughts
that cower under layers of confusion
one could only call it so,
a confusion so deep that
symbols nor words,
not even thoughts themselves,
could
describe
me a fantasy one
so cheap as to believe I could step directly
into a world of your
making
something incredible,
something moving for all,
is arguably impossible.
as pleasing the masses has been
unaccomplished.
I will join the list of failed attempters
and greet them in the after life
with a bucket list with
no marks.
a life lacking purpose,
a mind with no dreams.
thinly veiled truths,
multiple measures taken
in case of catastrophe
that lead to an answer so much
like that of submission and
apathy
scarred on a canvas so dark it’s almost
unrecognizable as human
to the point of which a mentality of
likelihood becomes
unlikely
to let go of that twisted form
that technique that critiques only the most
talented of
artists
killed by their art
as if their pieces weren’t
a piece of their scattered soul
tarnished by probabilities so grand
as to rock the foundation of
reality
so skewed as to offset a mind so
complex that it would
short circuit should you mention dreaded
normality
by standards of society
is the only acceptable way to behave
with shaved legs and lengthy hair
that signalizes our
femininity
so toxic that we choke on the pinks
the fabric that hold our breasts
we must hold close to our hearts
despite our unwillingness to claim our
gender
is dead,
it is a fake separated by
sex and biology that should never
be a key point of
influence
begins at the start of all relationships the
instant you came into this world
and is rejected when the beginning
formations of invading
thoughts
that cower under layers of confusion
one could only call it so,
a confusion so deep that
symbols nor words,
not even thoughts themselves,
could
describe
me a fantasy one
so cheap as to believe I could step directly
into a world of your
making
something incredible,
something moving for all,
is arguably impossible.
as pleasing the masses has been
unaccomplished.
I will join the list of failed attempters
and greet them in the after life
with a bucket list with
no marks.
a life lacking purpose,
a mind with no dreams.
Olivia Lathrom is a fourteen-year-old from the depths of the Pacific North West in Washington State.