Young Writers Society

Ah, the poem born of one of my many - well, passions. Its OK I guess, nothing spectacular. But hell if it dont get right down and dirty with the way I feel.

My Cowardice

If I weren’t such a coward
I would tell you what I think of you.
I would march right up to you
And tell you to your face
Instead of hating you
Behind your back.
If I weren’t so scared of you
I wouldn’t care what you think of me.
I would act like the madwoman
You already believe I am.
If you weren’t dangling
Threats above my head, keeping me silent
I would unleash
The force of my disdain
And let you know how I feel
About people who manipulate me.
If I didn’t know
That I would cave as soon as you said
“Hello”, so nicely,
I would wear that top that says
“Don’t Mess With Me” – and I would be proud of it.
If I thought more of myself
And trusted my opinions
I wouldn’t have to be reminded that
You’re only trying to help.
I would tell you
What you could do with your ‘help’
And how the best way to help me would be
For you to stay away.

But I am a coward
My bones are custard
My belly is a brighter yellow
Than all the sunflowers of the world combined.
I am the deserter who ran in the face of fire
And cried
For her mummy to come and save her.
You know what I am and so you circle
Determined to save the world, and to start with me.
Well, I have news for you
Shark that you are.
I don’t need you and I never will
I’ll die before I give you
Any power in my life.
I will play your games for as long as I have to –
But know this:
You have not won, because you
Can never save me.
The only thing I need saving from
Is you.