was always so scared of breaking the rules
didn’t want to go to hell
or be sent out of the room
I was good at counting to ten
I quickly learned to tie my shoes
and I quietly gave in to wearing skirts
although it was the last thing I wanted to do
I watched my friends steal things from corner shops
kept my hands close by my sides
I was a loyal girl, I kept my mouth shut
Just observed their sins with my wide eyes
How do they do it?
What is okay?
I stay out of the way
Always out of the way
Every now and then I would verbalise my questions
This isn’t fair is it?
Why are things this way?
Do you think if I cut all my hair off people would think I was a boy?
(they said no; they were wrong)
Why won’t the boys let me play?
I started getting older,
started taking their answers as gospel,
accepting things,
but also questioning the literal gospel
because I didn’t see me.
I started getting taller and my body had ideas of its own.
Couldn’t play by the rules,
Couldn’t obey the word of god.
Or at least not the words of Leviticus.
After years I gave in to the messages uncurling from my lips,
from my spine, from my eyes
Might not have been right
but also couldn’t be denied.
So for a while I continued, living my life
somewhat in spite of myself
I had broken one rule so I tried
to make up for it with everything else.
The more people’s pride slipped away the harder I tried
I tried, I tried, I tried
Ten years later I watched on,
open mouthed, arms out,
as my older brother died
The rules didn’t work for him either.
I tried, I tried, I tried,
I was so very very tired
Eleven years later time for something different
time I tried throwing caution to the wind
I take the little scared me by the hand
bring her along for the ride
I think of all the drugs, the sex, the rock and roll I never tried
I think about stealing things – could I maybe
take happiness from this life?
It feels like I can if I finally decide
that the rebellion starts now,
and it starts from inside