No Self, No Problem

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