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Flimsy Spines

Imagine as a rap

By Bianca WilsonPublished 7 months ago Updated 6 months ago 2 min read
original cover photo from Zayceva Tatiana from pexels.com

Flowers from the spine.

Sprouting from the tailbone.

Can't you feel it tickling?

With a quickening?

As the clock keeps ticking?


Take me back in time.

When we're born we're taught to be good.

To be honest, kind, and just

as we should.

So why?

That while living our lives

we're forced to realize

that no one follows the rules.

In fact we're forced to live among

the wicked and cruel.

Leaving many of us faced with conforming

or playing the fool.

And as we age we learn to lie.

Just a little-

but we're still the good guys!

Cause you see,

life teaches us we have to be mean.

Because of scammers,


all kinds of wicked schemes!

To grow a spine!

To stand your ground when no one's on your side...

Because no one will say exactly what's on their mind.

They won't stick up for you when the time is right...

The problem is when we're raised

we're reinforced and taught to comply.

So most of us end up with flimsy spines.

And so there's an inevitable clash

between being honest or being nice.

Between learning to be eloquent or staying socially clumsy.

Verbally unpracticed and lacking in tact.

In cooperativeness and selfishness.

Keeping the peace.

Not speaking your mind.

Biding your time.

Hoping that you imagined it and

everything will be fine.

But in the end, you end up leaking

or exploding.

An embarrassment to yourself,

in dire need of re-molding.

As you age, your flimsy spine grows thicker.

Upon exposure to BS and the betrayal of the lessers.

It'll sprout flowers to hide the thorns,

that threaten to tear off your skin and sanity,

that weeds that make your back itch

constantly unsure, pregnant with social anxiety.

You keep failing

to recognize life's correction.

The themes in your life.

The looming shadow

that you're better off solo in the long run.

Cause you're not in a place or environment

where you can meet others like you.

Protect your energy.

But don't get conceited.

We're not that special, people are people too.

Your stems will wrap around itself

until a fake spine is woven.

Forming a mold for the real thing that will

come into place in time.

Hopefully, by the end, you'll be a lady-

Not a bitter half-dead corpse with a grudge

but someone who can see a bit of themselves in everyone.

Who knows that hatred, bitterness and energy will never serve you,

and sometimes when people have their moments, it's not always about you.

slam poetry

About the Creator

Bianca Wilson

I want to be creative as much as possible for as long as possible.

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