Dragon-Conned
(Nothing against it, but dang universe…really?)
A funny little retrograde trick,
A humorous little universal trollin’
got this Pisces Moon,
Sun Virgo,
Taurus Risin’,
Rollin’…
I made the vow not to write too much ‘bout him,
‘lest I want that spell-cast friend at my throat.
Well,
The universe keeps bringing him to me
right to me,
in the form of his treasured convention.
Far be it from me,
’cause it’s really not my style —
I don’t dog what handsome Blerds do.
I know what it’s like,
I’ve walked the crooked mile,
But there’s rotted ire to review.
I was conned for DragonCon.
TL,
DR,
It’s all in the past.
2018.
Between my stupid birthday
And his long tradition,
I got sugar and Ocean’s 8.
I got accused of attitude —
Despite traveling for costume lasts,
Despite trimming fugly shorts,
Despite hashtags for exposure.
A game face was attitude,
And I was home alone.
We argued,
I lost,
I knew I didn’t matter.
5 years passed.
It isn’t him I hate.
I’ll always hate the choice.
I’ll always be “too sensitive”
Now,
Indifferent about my birth.
Stupid, but honest.
Here’s the latest part,
And I cannot escape its wrath —
Random posts come marching,
bearing the uncomfortable name.
Constant, constant, constant.
Why now?
Why…ever?
Seems pointed,
But…ok.
(Girl, just log off.)
She went to play a Marvel favorite,
He went and won an award.
They went and made Bizzare appearances,
And I hoped not to see his face.
Lord,
I really don’t need to see his face.
He chose jungle java juice over me.
He was excited about hotel parties over me.
He chose overpriced con food
over me.
The cheap blue card of events,
of course,
was worth far more.
My insignificant sadness was invalid.
“I told you about this”.
I couldn’t piece together how upset I was, then.
It burned to matter less.
When I fumbled for phrases,
I was nothing but a childish mess.
I was confirming my own self-hatred
manifested in the type of man I thought was perfect.
I’d rather not see that cursed name,
Yet that’s the risk of following likened minds.
There’s no hatred for him,
or them —
Just the scabbed-over wounds of time.
About the Author(ess): When she’s not creating chaos in freeform, Veronica spends her time dabbling in tie-dye projects and birdwatching. She currently lives in a small Tennessee town. [Contact Info]
