Here’s my Answer
(Content warning: strong language, transphobia references, homophobic slurs)
‘Fuck that!’ The words shot from Barbie’s mouth as her fingers dug into the drivel-etched pages She tossed the book sideways, listening to the tumbling scrape of leather and paper on roof tiles. She retrieved a crumpled carton and magenta lighter from her jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette with her teeth. She lit it and took her time on an earthy drag Don’t lecture me, I know cigs don’t mix well with my meds She exhaled as a warm breeze danced over her and splayed her hair across her face She lay back and tried to figure out how she, or anyone, was supposed to find inspiration in a poem like that
Snippets of her tutor’s lecture from earlier surfaced in her head. ‘Look to the Romantics, young man Even you could learn from them. Cease with your puerile attempts at writing “deep” poetry. Be honest in your expression.’
Bullshit! Fucking overpaid, talentless, transphobic cum-stain! I’ve always been honest: you just don’t like me
An idea sprang into Barbie’s head. She pulled out her narcoleptic phone, opened a new enote, and typed:
yourhackclassesareaprison I’veenduredwithouttrial–youradviceisaballgag I’dneverconsentto–youtripmewithexpectations youvaultedonatrustfund–youstrutlikeafascistintweed hopingI’llproveyourightandbe afuturelessfaggot,beggingtobe remadeintoacishetmarionette dancingatyourfingertips untilyou’reboredofme–youexpectmetoobeyyou, butwould you obeyyou?
Before any second thoughts could stop her, Barbie selected the text and sent it to her tutor in a subjectless email. As she took another drag, she felt the corners of her mouth tug Was that honest enough for you?