An Inventory of Self

September 28, 2010
My name is Sarah.
I am 17 years old.
I wish my name wasn’t Sarah,
But I can’t think of a name I like any better.

Tears tint my eyes green, but no one ever notices.
Most people assure me they’re brown.
I like it when a boy tells me they’re hazel.

My hair is chopped short.
I miss my hair being long but my patience to grow it out is just as
short as my hair usually is.

Sometimes, I wear a cross.

I have a dog, and I have a mother.
I like the first one better.
My father takes me to school every morning and
it makes me want to learn to never drive.
I have a sister, but she lives so far away I don’t
know if it still counts.

I prefer to not ask questions
because I’m not really looking for any answers.
Instead I eavesdrop on the conversations of people I
don’t even know.

(Obligatory Lady Gaga reference)

When I walk, I think
about how people see me walking.
And when I ride my bike I listen to Noah and the Whale,
and that makes me feel like the opening sequence of a movie.

I like it when my father makes me dinner
and when my brother brings me comic books about Robin.

Sometimes my sister takes me to see movies
but I only like to go when it’s dark outside.
We always see movies we don’t want to see
only to be able to say we saw them.

I hate comma splices.

When I wake up, I always think of a certain person
(even if that person doesn’t think about me.)

I wish I had a tail, because
I think tails have a certain appeal.
And if humans had tails it might knock our
egos down where they belong:
with the animals.

I hate happy couples;
I wish I was a happy couple.

I like bright, bloody lipstick
and wearing dresses.
High-heels are my favorite
and if I could wear them to school
without looking trashy
I would.

I read Billy Collins and
e. e. cummings
religiously, habitually.
I start poetry books at the end and
dog ear my favorite pages.

I do not believe in love, but I hope someone will prove me wrong.
I think I know the
man I will marry already.

I like to draw and
I write a lot but I do
not consider myself an artist.
Artists change the world.

I want 3 children:
That way the middle child is still special.

I wonder if my death will impact the world, a ripple,
an explosion.
I hope so.

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dancestar said...
Aug. 23, 2011 at 9:06 pm
that was amzing...jst wow...i was completely lost from the real world and engrossed in the poem...i am very sory if these emotions are real for you...offcourse ur death wld affect many ppl...offcourse ppl care...i kno all of us here in the least care for u...and thts jst the start...u r a great writer...think of all you cld offer to the world and all the world has to offer to you...great job! and dnt lose hope on life :)
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