What if I was an Emo kid?

Yes, one of those silly emos

The word that doesn’t mean a thing

What if I attended those emo shows?

I’d have stringy hair dyed black, of course,

With my emo poetry;

Saying how I’m misunderstood

And how much it sucks to be me.

I’d have faded black chucks with enormous holes

Covered with writing galore.

And my socks would be holed, and my pants would be ripped,

Oh, I’d have such an emo-y core.

Words would cover the scars on my arms

That have been there since I realized my oppression.

Words unspoken to those who don’t understand

Why I’m stuck in such a depression.

I’d follow no fashion; I’d wear no name brands.

My face would be as pale as a ghost.

I’d moan of my woes and my troubles, despairs,

And I’d think I’m not even good enough for toast.

I don’t care what’s cool; I don’t care what’s in.

I just want to play my acoustic guitar.

And write songs about how the world all sucks

And how I dream to be amongst the stars.

Oh, what if I was an Emo kid,

I’d travel to nowhere indeed.

I’d be forced with my parents, who try to control me-

Them and their capitalist greed.

What if I was an Emo kid?

I’d deny the fact that it’s me.

I’d say, “I’m no emo!” because that just isn’t

The emo way to be.

Disclaimer: I do not care whether or not you take offense at this poem. I need no justifications. I'm writing this disclaimer because I know there will be someone out there that will say, "This is a horrible, inaccurate piece of moldy bologna." This is a total work based off of stereotypes that I’ve actually seen; I’m not asking to be corrected if they don’t fit you.