The summer that I turned thirteen
is one I’ll never forget, oh no.
It began in June when Tower City was seen—
taken to hang out with Anna and crew,
staying up all night mixing CDs and watching Moulin Rouge—
Val and I gossiped about Eminem and his hotness, we knew.
Despite the bullying, stalking and their taunts
from kids back home, I hid in music
hours of Kittie and Lotus; a new burner flaunted.
Yet, “Without Me” tops the list—
the weekend after the fever broke,
to French Creek we traveled, we prayed with fists
that the August rain would hold and it did!
Through the sun, I was in my Goth phase
and although I must protect my skin, I hid
underneath the towels, I mimicked bin Ladin;
dad began to whistle the end of “Without Me,”
I start rocking, the beat continues and dancing begins
complete with the blue turban towels;
we didn’t care if people stared,
yet the opposite happened—laughs and no scowls.
That day was the best and I will not forget,
a break in the unhappiness that defined the year—
“Without Me” and the bonding that was set.
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