Quiet child (a wine-fuelled rant)

"You were always a bit deep and meaningful"  
she said, face red with an ember of wine.    
"such a serious child, the others so mild...    
and you were alone so much of the time."    
I smiled as I sipped on a crisp, biting drink    
and flashed some sharp smile as I settled to think,    
for those words were a nip; a grip just too tight    
"Even though now", she proclaims, I am "such a delight!"    
For a while I feigned a soft glow at these words:    
Acceptance at last, I can finally be heard    
as a girl who is "normal, an ordinary soul",    
until suddenly fire burst out from that glow.    
In my mind I marched back to the house where we sat;    
white wine gripped tight lest it land in her lap.    
"Such a delight" she says with butter-soft eyes,    
"And my dear, my gosh, it is such a surprise!"    
I swallow five gulps, look her dead in the eye,    
"Well that's awfully nice, and I should be so pleased    
that you have finally deemed to be accepting of me,    
but can I just ask you, what is so wrong    
with a child with a long face whose words strike so strong?    
Why do you care if I stared in the flames,    
if I lingered in doorways, and I sat in the rain,    
wandering around a labyrinth brain?    
I'm sorry that you feel that my depth was too deep,    
that my outlook on life was a little too bleak,    
that I spoke about death and elation and love,    
and the fragility and beauty of our brains and our blood,    
and the beautiful rendition of decomposition,    
played over and over by the same blind composer    
conducting an infinite song."    
I put down my glass, a chamber of might,    
of warm fingers spreading through skin into sight.
I swallow the blur of my pulse and her shock,    
and I lock my eyes with hers, like a wave, like a rock.    
"And while I am here, I would just like to say,    
Why the fuck would you want to be normal anyway?"    
With that I storm out into blizzard and scorch,    
veins bulging with thirst for finding out more;    
for turning my glow into fire, into breath,    
for feeling myself rise from ash into depth.    
And yes, this was all somewhere in my head,    
as I silently sit alone in my bed,    
but I just want to say to all those who are "deep"    
let's call out the bullshit, and thank god we're not sheep.  
first attempt at spoken word, any feedback/advice very welcome!
Written by earthandbone
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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