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somewhereoutthere

things that don’t fit

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i asked 

my friends what tater tots were at the swimming pool, once, when i was ten

they laughed and sang about how i lived under a rock

but i knew even before that

right from the getgo

it’s little things like

a language of hashtags i can speak but not honestly

and the way i have to pretend i understand complicated references from videos i never saw

i write poetry at parties on an inherited ipad mini (not a phone like everyone else has)

and can tell you everything about senior’s homes and my grandmother’s dementia

but i’ve never watched my own tv

i get the feeling i seem a bit like the moon to the earth

very far away

silver; only visible when you’re not looking

(which sucks, because the moon is still visible in daylight)

my words

never seem to be the same voice as everyone else’s

always just a bit

different

i’ve never worried about being understood, honestly

i just want to be myself despite that difference

and not be afraid of being rejected

and i hope this poem is a start of something.

 

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