I don't care what you think

by K. Kylyra Ameringer

Google tongued and snot eyed

pretenders to the throne of righteousness

always seem to find me,

to pick me out of the crowd and say

'Hey you! You're not very good!'

in loud tones

that shatter the icicles

of sound in a room.

They're quick to point out

my short comings

my failures

my imperfections

which I am so intimately acquainted with

as if I didn't see them

or hear them

or know them

as time worn enemies

of my own utopian vision

of who and what I am.

I always hear from the hecklers first,

cursed by an invisible sign

hung round my neck that says

"tell me what you think".

I don't care what you think.

I don't care if you like or dislike

my words

my music

my body

my smile;

it may take awhile

to cut through the fat

surrounding your thoughts -

that I'm not your sweetie,

your darling,

your baby.

And maybe, just maybe,

if I say it right

tonight I'll whip that pervasive mask

of smugness from you,

so do hear me when I say

I don't care what you think!

Ha! Made you blink.

Am I cracking through

to the black hearted truth

underneath your veneer,

my dear?

I know what you're after -

not laughter, but tears;

a torrent of tears to wash me

down the drain

where I will remain in the u-bend

in the sludge and the muck

built up from your acerbic remarks

that have dissolved away the resolve

of others you've burned

with nonchalance.

You want to step on my back to gain a little height;

does it make you feel mighty, my man?

Do you think you'll seem blight free

if you can succeed at belittling me?

You seem to forget your flaws show true

when you yell

"Hey you! You're not so good!"

And I don't care what you think.