Off the Shelfs

People always want to

put you somewhere.

It makes it easier for them

to swallow you.

Like the world’s a shelf

and you’re just a label.

I’ve always slipped off

its edge.

Masks—

I wore them until

I learned to take them off

in front of an audience.

With my art crew,

we made scandals

just to shatter the image

they tried to paste on us.

We weren’t looking

for attention—

it was the only way

we could breathe.

My autonomy is my reputation.

I don’t bend

to fit someone’s frame.

Frames aren’t even for

paintings—

and sure as hell

not for people.

Fame, success—

I tasted them by accident.

Everyone said

I was some kind of

prodigy kid.

I wasn’t

I was just mad too soon.

And I know how empty

all that really is—

the stuff the world calls

success. 

Our gold is not the same. 

You don’t know

a damn thing about me.

Maybe I don’t either.

But I’m slipping

off the shelfs—

successfully!

-Tea Franca