Dead Last

Thursday, May 27

By Lane Bashline

Never the first choice 

Not even the second

Always been funny

Without even trying 


Thick round glasses

And a very slight lisp

Made me a great wingman

But always alone


Then I got taller

And rounder and Paler

With acne and oil

Glittery clothes and purple robes


But all of a sudden my bubble bursts

And my funny bone breaks 

Into inconsistent fragments 

Of sadness and a lack of confidence 


My love of life began to bleed 

And the pounds start to shed

Blonder and brighter 

Demented and fun


I lost myself 

Did what they wanted

Wasn’t what I wanted 

Not what she wanted

I was public domain


The sadness made others happy

A project, a fixer-upper

They use me

And abused me


Still not the first choice 

Not even the second 

I’d rather be the third

All things considered 

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