I tried to thundersing once,
when I was a child,
but I was mocked
by a picklelicking cacklebird,
and the sound wiggleknocked
through my head,
my pounding heart
nothing but a ragetoy,
wish-wash thunk
wish-wash thunk.
So you must forgive me
for my shyshut eyes,
and my triptrap words.
I’ve never really felt
kickpunky like the other girls.
I can’t whirlsplatter my way
into someone else’s glorydream.
You just have to accept
my self-light.
You either get it, or you don’t.
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