I am Atlas

I am nothing my parents wanted me to be-

I am nothing I thought I would be.

That little girl in pink, hair down to her shoulders,

Well she begins to fade and she moulders.

Hair cut short, a rebellious look for a girl,

But  I thought “Let’s give it  whirl.”

I’m still who I am, I’m gentle and kind.

Though different on the outside, same in the mind.


I am everything I never thought I could be,

I am happy with who I am, being me.

I am that boy, with the loose shirts and sweet smile,

That boy with the perpendicular style.

The boy that doesn’t get to go in the locker room.

That boy who is still in bloom.


Despite what my mother yells and my father denies,

I am a boy, I am Atlas, who smiles wry.

So remove me from your Christmas card list,

Like I give a fuck. Your choice, your miss.

Deny me for my labels, you shallow pig

Because of them I smile big.

This poem is about: 
My family


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