NOT THIS GIRL

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Submitted Date 11/03/2018
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In school,

when they asked us about our preferences,

like teachers often do,

I did not have a favorite color.

What about a favorite food?

Favorite song?

Favorite movie?


They thought I was being difficult

so I wrote essays about cupcakes

and the color yellow

and the music of Stevie Nicks

and the Star Wars trilogy –

which I have still never seen.


My girlhood demanded adaptation,

A little improvisation.


By the time I was 18,

I was a chameleon.

Or a butterfly.

But butterflies only change once,

So no –

not a butterfly.

Not me.

Not this girl.


I changed every hour.

Like clockwork.

Like a long day had filled in the minutes

in between each hour

on the face of the clock.

Just whatever helped me blend

the minute marks

and help the hour hands to make speedy circles.


By the time I was 18,

I was more like 80.

I wore the young person uniform

but had the mind of an old

woman.

Some girls stay girls forever.

Not me.

Not this girl. 

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  • Miranda Fotia 5 years, 1 month ago

    "By the time I was 18, I was more like 80. I wore the young person uniform but had the mind of an old woman." Me too. I have always been told I have an old soul. I try to think of it as a compliment, but I feel bothered by the reasons I was not able to maintain that childlike wonder for very long. Great poem! Thanks for sharing!

  • No name 4 years, 10 months ago

    Really cute, I really like it