A Moment Towards Coming Out of Childhood and Some Reflections on It's Wisdom, In Code

It existed in imagination as- 
It was about naming what existed
Biblical kind of creation through naming
first the histronics of an excorcism
then, all falsehoods exiled, a joyous acceptance
but what existed in the first place?
Scrolling google images for pictures of video game girls
not knowing why is child's play
(And pathetic no matter or especially as a secret
in secrets, depth is not complexity.
find new hobbies, fourth graders)
borrowing books from the library through holds, too.
I knew but didnt know,
and was content to let it be in reserve
some children think such secrets
not secrets, not dangerous, not something
that would make your parents raise their hands
take your arm or- I don't mean to presume
your neck, the line of your life
are world-wide knowledge
Wait and see where the line between your parents and the world end
if the line exists. In middle school
a good friend told me and I told them
I considered this exchange the height of maturity
the mutual recognition of something we had
childlishly, we thought
buried, hung up in a shared closet
I had made the same mistake of those princesses
female princesses fawning over male princes
thinking the maturation of desire and romance
ran parallel to the construction of an adult
safe from tumultous household forces
from the path society carved with its violent currents
our immigrant parents are forever right
a good life is about work and waiting
Waiting is about wanting to tell someone, unwisely,
seeing is about knowing your want was mistaken
even if your desires are clean 
if your want is telling
and if you can stand to live alone
its something that ought to be taken out back
and shot! Make it a clean death
I keep mine leashed, watered, and fed, out of an excess of attachment
it whines and scratches at every green door it sees
So what, it helped make me a good friend? 
I would've survived, just unhappier, just down a half,
down half my breaths and half my heart, nothing
little girls who mistake silence for goodwill think twice
Do you know your parents love you?
And if they knew what you are?
And if you know what they are?
Don't send your mother crying to church
Don't take this advice for condescension
but a dispatch from the front lines up ahead
which you too will approach in good time
you don't owe anyone your truth;
I don't owe anyone this truth.
Not in this poem or anywhere.
Figure it out!


This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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