Caveats, A Poem

I'm a gamer . . . well not really,

because I only own ten or so games,

because I don't play CoD or Halo,

because I'm a punchline to my peers.

I'm an artist . . . well not really,

because I only knit scarves,

because I don't sculp or paint or play,

because I can't write stories.

I'm a citizen . . . well not really,

because I can't stand up or sit down,

because I'm too weird to identify with,

because my experience is invalid.

I'm a woman . . . well not really,

because I've never been to bed with anyone,

because people can't touch me,

because I can't touch people.

I'm a sister and a daughter . . . well not really,

because my eyes are the wrong color,

because my expressions of love are wrong,

because I don't fit in my slot.

I'm a person . . . well not really,

because I am deviant,

because I am deficient,

because I am disgusting.

Because my skin is not clear.

Because my bosom is malformed.

Because my hair doesn't style itself.

Because my teeth are crooked.

Because my belly droops to my thighs.

Because my ass is a yard across.

Because there is nothing inside me but fat.

Because there is nothing inside me but need.

Because there is nothing inside me anyone wants.

-BJ