Here’s a poem I wrote a while back, about labels. I am not fond of them, yet I can lay claim to every label below. This was designed to be performed rather than read, but I’ll let you read it however you like.

 

 

 

 

 

MOTHER

TRANS

TEACHER

BIPOLAR

LESBIAN

WIFE

CRETIN

PARANOID

LOVER

OCD

DAUGHTER

SON

BORDERLINE

BORDERLINE

BORDERLINE

DISORDERED

Some days

I like labels.

They define,

Give purpose,

Comfort,

Include.

Other days,

When my soul refuses to be squeezed into the space provided,

I want to smudge each letter,

Ruffle the boundaries,

Turn my labels into a blurred mess,

Like a charcoal drawing brought home by a school-child.

Ill-defined.

Harder to understand.

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