am i supposed to sit here questioning priorities and virtues
how 12-year-old baseball heroes are glorified
but 17-year-old women's rights activists go unnoticed;
how 19-year-old high school seniors,
champs of the wrestling teams
are revered as gods
even though they drink too much at parties
and pass out vomiting on someone else's couch
after taking advantage of the fourth insecure girl
who weeps not knowing her own worth;
but quiet bookish students who publish their own works
on life and faith, on truth and beauty
who can quote keats and relate to thoreau,
who compare with kerouac and magritte
get a pat on the back at most
but get teased by fellow students
for their saddle shoes and haircuts
whose blood trickles quietly down bathroom drains
when they can't take it anymore
whose funerals go tragically unattended because
no one cared enough about their lack of brawn
to scatter some earth to lay to rest the young genius's grave?
am i supposed to be wondering why i'm supposed to be so stifled
in health and heart?
am i supposed to shut my mouth and cover it with another
$7 tube of revlon
forget to eat
give up feeding mind and soul
and practice walking on 6-inch heels
rather than read about little mary shelley
am i supposed to place my faith in old rich white men
who design $60 t-shirts i'm supposed to wear like rosaries?
calvin klein works in mysterious ways,
and in tommy we trust?
am i supposed to give it all up
and be the paper doll everyone seems to want me to be?
i'm sick of checking
to see if razor blades are
(comment on this poem)