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poetry

Get Up

I apologize; this piece is angry and violent and probably one of the best things I’ve written. Heavily inspired by spoken word poet Maia Mayor’s “Perfect”, this poem draws […]

Warning: profanity

Get up Alice

Get up and wake up

At a reasonable time

Make up that bed

And ugly face

A face that has no place with such a wide mouth

Stop letting stuff just spurt out

Think about what you say

And think about it again

No wonder you don’t have many friends

Do you think that this speech is a cry for help

It’s a cry for attention

Pay attention, Alice

Pay attention to what I say

Pay attention to the way I want this done

Do it exactly how I want it done

Why do you never have fun?

Lighten up, Alice

Take a joke

You do not hold the world on your shoulders

You do not shoulder substantial burden

Learn and know that more people have it worse than you

Stop acting like everything is just so blue

Do it with a smile

And a happy one at that

Then again, every smile you’ve given looks like you just spat

Stop looking so pained

Stop being so drained

And for God’s sake, stop pretending that you’re so busy

Everything you do should be easy

But you can’t do that if you don’t get up

Get up

Get the fuck up

Wake the fuck up

You don’t have time to be lounging about

You were supposed to send three emails out

And I don’t want to see you pout

I set an alarm for six in the morning

That’s not an alarm, it’s a warning

If you don’t wake up now you’ll never wake up

And get up

And make your breakfast

And make yourself workout

And make up yourself

Because you don’t have time to be sad

You don’t have time to say how you feel

You don’t have time to call your feelings real

Because you need to get up

***

I apologize; this piece is angry and violent and probably one of the best things I’ve written. Heavily inspired by spoken word poet Maia Mayor’s “Perfect”, this poem draws from the element of internalized perfectionism, with a dash of content. I pieced it together in my mind through these last few months, but the entire thing came to fruition quite recently. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be shared. But if it was, and there are people like me who understand this poem to its core, be glad that you’re not alone.

By griffalice

A poet, an artist, and an explorer.

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