Confessions of the Playground

If I was a swing set then I would want

to be a little rusty with

the red paint chipping slowly off and

I would stay there through winter

and summer,

spring and fall.

and If I was a swing set I think I'd like it

because I would always be there

and somebody would always need me

and when they saw me they would smile and

think back to memories.

It's just

a couple of words in an ocean, dripping

slowly out through the faucets but

I want to open them all the way

start a flood, break down the doors,

distract the prison guard and

If I started a flood it wouldn't be me

who mopped it up I would let it sit,

grow moldy,

attach to the floors and maybe the spores

would turn into a flowers and

the prison would disappear.

With the prison gone the sheet music will

flow and the piano will sing but not

me because they say "You!

You do not deserve this, you are ugly,

you are not true!"

But they don't understand how it is to be

just a blade of grass in the field,

desperately trying to show,

trying to shout out how I

am different and I am special,

just like they told me in the

first grade.

I wish I knew before that when I'm bursting

at the seams and screaming as I write

and crying although I don't really know why,

I am just exposing me, trying to figure myself out

just a little more.

It's just emotion knocking everything down,

and no, don't ask me how I feel,

I couldn't explain because I just don't know I'm

just a little confused

too confused because I've been licking prison

doors.

The rust cuts my tongue, I taste the

metal but it's nothing compared to how I feel

when they scream and shout at me, they warn me

never to dream or explore

because I am not smart enough to find my way home.

The funny thing is, I don't even know where home is

anymore,

I don't even know who I am, but I thought

I did. It's not as simple as it seems.

If I was a rusty red swing set with the paint

chipping off, exposing my core,

I think you might understand, and

if I opened the faucet a little bit more,

then maybe it would flood the floors,

bring me home,

sweep me along,

water the flowers,

make me as beautiful as I said

I was,

when the swing set lied to me.