Poetry: Candy Apple

I’ve mentioned it before here, but I don’t necessarily consider myself to be “a poet.” Not all writers write everything well, and I’m far too long winded to craft poetic masterpieces. Nevertheless, I sometimes find that sketching out my emotions via a simple structure and minimalist style can be one of the best forms of therapy for me. So, here’s a small fragment of my recent thoughts and feelings, however stilted and unpolished as it may be…

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I don’t want your sympathy 

Not even your sideways look 

I don’t want your lecture 

Not even your company 

I just don’t want it. 

I don’t want your candy. 

You want me to choke that down?

But it’s bad for me.

You can’t understand why?

But it’s all you really see

I’m a shell. 

I don’t want your candy 

This is what I have 

You won’t take it from me.

This is my control 

You can’t steal that from me. 

I’m a doll baby, see?

I don’t want your candy. 

My body is my own 

And I get to treat it how I please 

My life is my own

And I get to smash it into pieces 

I don’t want your candy.