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Poetry
Label Me This....Biotch Who am I?Do you think based on a few meetings that you know me? That you have the right to judge me? Sweet most of the time Cunt if you cross me Killer if you fuck with my child Mom, Artist Dyke, Spouse. Is that enough to make you Feel uncomfortable or Do you want more? Yep, you’re right I’m not you’re fucking typical goddamn American. Call me what you want, Not like I haven’t heard it all before. Though you could try being a bit more original if you really expect to hurt me. Crazy, Psychotic Writer, cunt, bitch, and yet none of it Am I ashamed of. Keep flinging those insults and I’ll keep rising above. You expect me to hide from you because of you’re fears and insecurities. Are you seriously that Fucking crazy? Not gonna happen. Not today, Not tomorrow. If who I am scares you Dare I suggest you confront your issues? If what I have to say angers you I challenge you to not look away Or don’t and live in Continued ignorance. Don’t much matter to me Live your lie In bliss, I’ll just float on by. "Homo! Queer! Bipolar! Evil dyke cunt bitch!" You scream. Calling me names with venomous hate Where is your loving God in those words? Introspective. Patriotic. Artist. Humanitarian. Those too I choose. Well, now that we labeled me, How about you? By Mara McWilliams Please note:
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