thirty two

I am backed into a corner,
I am forced to listen to lectures
From people I trust
Who trust I am doing the wrong thing,
I am forced to set aside the realities
I was sure of deep inside
And substitute a thought
Inconsistent with the way I'm wired.
I guess, something that goes against every fiber of my being
Must be the right thing, right?
Perhaps not always.
I'm already driving on the opposite side of the street,
I am already sacrificing passion for the sake of honor,
And yet I am backed into a corner,
To be told I'm just a runaway who needs to confront
The loss of hope everyone so skillfully clings to.
Who am I to listen to anymore?
Surely not someone so biased as yourself.
Surely not someone so messed up as myself.

I think that what I need is a clear head,
I don't care what you think of me anymore.
Maybe I'm the slut you seem to believe I am,
Maybe I'm the insolent rebel you label me as,
Although I prefer the term free spirit.
Someday these scars will only serve as reminders,
Not as blisters that keep breaking open when I twist my hand a certain way,
Now excuse me while I walk away
From all the hurtful things you prefer to say--