Revelations of the supposed former LIFE of the party

I rolled my eyes,

by the by,

as I entered the

pretentious parade,

sipped Coke from a

wine glass

trying to just be one

of the crowd

(I don't want the spotlight now)

with friends that could not-

(want not to)-

understand my philosophy,

But the duplicity (those two-faced

friendly faces)

state that the human race

should understand it's kind.

It's mine, my life

to bend and shape

by my will.

Right?

I am brown-eyed,

brown hair,

Western European,

Catholic (I don't practice,

but I hear it makes perfection).

Ain't that good enough

for your standards?

God, I hate the Bible Belt

(forgive me, I need a drink.)

And I've yet to discern

friend from foe

so I'm suspicious

-But so it goes.

-But so I'm learning everyday

(unlike some others I

could name by name).

So you laugh at my jokes,

more biting than funny

(as my resolve caves,

and the alcohol keeps coming).
So I condemn country,

God, Jesus, and civility?

So I condemn autonomy,

piety, and progeny?

So I am single,

and selfish, and naughtily

aggressive?

Laugh about it,

blame it on the wine.

Well, then keep the wine

away from me!

If I offend at dinner parties

don't invite me to these

pointless, pompous events

that require me to behave

and stave off the anger-

(the wine made me like all of you

a lot more than I really do,

in blunt truth).

the wretchedness I see every day.

Don't look at me

with eyes of disdain.

I'll brake every mirror

in this damn hotel,

if it keeps me from looking into

my wine-tinged, angry eyes.

And when it's all over,

I'll pick up my purse.

Once again the life of the party

Who says what others

only dream to say.

Who pretends she likes

the company at play.

I'll sleep it off (I promise,

I know this is a problem)

and apologize (If you need to hear it,

I need to say it.)

It was your party (not my parade of anger).

I'm sorry, I'm sorry these are just words

I'm sorry, I can't take it all back.

It wasn't my parade.