Poems by Me

Loser

I've got friends,

Not many, but I got em.

I'm called a "loser," but it depends,

Cuz some like to think of me as a gem,

Do my traits offend?

But I guess some would call blasphemy,

Sorry for my lengthy vocabulary, it's not what I intend,

And call me names to end their painful agony.

What even makes me be the name you call me?

Because I sit alone to avoid any misogyny?

Because when I'm alone, no one can drown me in a depressing sea?

Why does it seem like everyone's triggered by my androgyny?

I find all your assumptions wrongfully,

Yet I'm still that geek that everyone knows,

And I get paid for drawing what you can only imagine.

It's fine, it's whatever, I understand how my intelligence might impose,

And I'm so socially awkward that human interaction is something I can't even fathom.

My nerdy friends and I all respond at the moment of an Irish man's YouTube anthem,

Top of the mornin',

Bottom of the ground,

When you shove me aroun',

I wish all of you could see the anxiety I drowned.

Even though few sit at my table, I feel safe and sound.

But the sounds of your laughter always at my back,

I know that I dumb,

I can't breathe with this many asthma attacks,

But it's not my fault that maths make my brain go, "Um?"

All of you fuckers, more stupid than I, know what you're doing, how come?!

Whine, and complain,

Sluts, and jocks,

Go home every weekend to sneak in night just to drink champagne.

Always on your phones, but laugh because I can't read clocks.

At least I don't fall heads-over-heels just cuz he has a nice cock.

Sophisticated,

But a geek at the same,

Outdated,

And maybe a bit lame,

After graduation, tell me, will your name become a fame?

Breaking your gender norms,

Time for another American renegade,

I never was calm, get ready for the storms,

I'll stand up for the gay,

Then I guess that makes me a loser anyway.