Mean
By Kallen Mohr
And I was mean,
true mean.
My mom said I am nothing like her,
I disagree.
Questions of my inhumanity rise again.
I meet them as a friend.
Walking creates rhythmic chants best left alone,
but easiest to follow.
“Guard it,
guard it,
guard it.”
These days my hair drips red.
Is that emotion or violence coloring me,
falling out like rain?
I could do with a little passion.
My narrator has been unreliable,
speaking truths and lies
from the same tongue
No, I don’t want to be known.
My body doesn’t hold its shape in a room.
I stammer vulnerability out loud.
If nothing sticks,
nothing sticks
“Show us truth,
embody a feeling,
personify that caged animal,
give us something.”
Scream right in their faces.
Make a scene.
Break the world a little.
Forgo experience that says otherwise.
Wonder of a near future
where emotion comes easy
and warmth flows freely.
Not today.
Today I am mean.
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