Weirdo
I’m weird
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Yep
Really weird
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I’m so weird
That maybe,
Just maybe
I’m writing a poem for you
Whilst I’m in a cab
On the way home
From a night out dancing
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‘Let go’
It was called
Dedicated to Mike and Sachin
They hardly responded
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Maybe I’m just too weird?
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One time
I kissed a boy
And wrote nine poems about him
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Oh and during that dance class
What I stared at the teacher so intensely
Getting into his heart and mind
Before writing ‘the choreographer’
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Chris was his name
He never responded either
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Maybe I’m just too weird?
Ah and that moment when I landed in a new country
And was downloading the poem ‘utopia’
And cabin crew ushered me out of the plane
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Too weird?
Perhaps
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And that letter I wrote
To my unborn children
When I was 23
A child myself
I read it to the world
‘I feel like I have to say this today, to my children, to our children, the future, the illusions and the destinies of life itself’
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Does that make me weird?
Too weird?
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My friend had a poem dedicated to her
After a conversation we had about being pretty
‘Botox’ it was called
I have never done Botox
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Maybe I’m weird
She didn’t respond
Neither did the friends to whom I dedicated an entire week of poetry to
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Did they print those poems onto canvas?
Or tattoo them onto their hearts?
Doesn’t seem that way
Doesn’t seem that way at all
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Overly weird – perhaps
But you know what
I’m weird
It’s not the poetry that’s weird
It’s me
And why deny
That which you are?
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Own it
Own it
Own it
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Be it
Be more of it
For it is that which creates
It is that which is the force of creation
And so long as we are creating
Then let our weird light
Shine bright