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What’s a girl to do
Looking looking looking
For completion in a partial world.

Will it be under this rock,
Or along that stream
I’ll find my prince charming
In the form of a frog?

And then what,
How many kisses will it take to know?

What’s a boy to do
When all around the voices say
Don’t don’t don’t

It’s a jungle out there
After the age of about three or four 
When it used to be thirteen or fourteen
That something as elusive as an identity even mattered.

And what then,
Will the identity I choose shine enough
And be sticky enough to last
When everyone is racing to the bottom
Of the victim barrel?

Each year a new victim class is anointed
More unlikely, and unlikable, than the last,
And each year we grow a little wearier
With the identity we once sought refuge in.

Out with the old and in with the new
Was so much easier when it was just a year of style
Of hair, or jeans, shoes or music 
Than now when it’s a whole world
I must cling to to still be me.

Somewhere I know there must be peace
I can see it in the eyes of those beyond
This obsession with the selfish desire
To find my place and sacrifice my individuality 
On the pyramid of victim privilege
But I just can’t give up the habit.

Someday I know I’ll turn fifteen
And grow out of it all
Then maybe I’ll want my breasts back
And my old name,

Until an eternity later I turn sixteen
And the latest fad catches, sticks and shines
And won’t let go, until I see at last
Hopefully before I’m too old and gray,

That just as the question always holds the answer
And the problem its solution
When there is no longer anyone there to search
There is no problem to find.

But until you find that Holy Grail
You’ll just cry away your nightmares
Identifying with the likeminded masses
Seeking safety in their numbers
Where the darkness is complete.

8/5/24
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