Mara McWilliams

Poetry

Label Me This....Biotch

Who am I?
Do you think
based on a few meetings
that you know me?
That you have the right
to judge me?

Sweet most of the time
Cunt if you cross me
Killer if you fuck with my child
Mom,
Artist
Dyke, Spouse.
Is that enough to make you
Feel uncomfortable or
Do you want more?
Yep, youíre right
Iím not youíre fucking typical goddamn American.

Call me what you want,
Not like I havenít heard
it all before.
Though you could try being a bit more original
if you really expect to hurt me.

Crazy,
Psychotic
Writer, cunt, bitch,
and yet none of it
Am I ashamed of.
Keep flinging those insults
and Iíll keep rising above.

You expect me
to hide from you
because of youíre fears and
insecurities.
Are you seriously that
Fucking crazy?

Not gonna happen.
Not today,
Not tomorrow.
If who I am scares you
Dare I suggest
you confront your issues?

If what I have to say angers you
I challenge you to not look away
Or donít and live in
Continued ignorance.
Donít much matter to me
Live your lie
In bliss, Iíll just float on by.

"Homo!
Queer!
Bipolar!
Evil dyke cunt bitch!"
You scream.
Calling me names
with venomous hate
Where is your loving God in those words?

Introspective.
Patriotic.
Artist.
Humanitarian.
Those too I choose.

Well, now that we labeled
me,
How about you?

By Mara McWilliams

Please note:
These original poems are all copyrighted and may not be used without the explicit permission of the author.

© 2006 Mara McWilliams, All Rights Reserved
http://www.MaraMcWilliams.com