I have decided to write this poem after reading a YA book that lacked representation which I won’t name because I don’t want to create a debate about this book in particular but about literature in general. I was thinking about how these kinds of books may seem enjoyable but they, in fact, make minorities think they don’t matter. They matter and exist in every world imaginable, everywhere and whenever the story is set in. It is a writer’s duty to let everyone dream.
i enjoy reading books,
i love open pages and their smell,
the fragrance of future,
the destroyed closure,
i love hearing the words’ yell,
on my heart the ink splashing,
metaphors in a bombshell.
i hate reading books,
with a perfect but naive girl,
falling for a handsome but violent
man and everybody stays silent,
she’s a precious pearl
that’s why we don’t care about her consent,
he’s a fuckboy but at least he’s not bent,
and he’s white he can make her toes curl.
i despise books,
in which you’re gay or straight but never in-between,
you’re always a brunette with green eyes,
and when you love you tell lies,
you’re a boy or a girl but never in-between,
you always like sex but not contraceptives,
let’s not talk about condoms, just pills but no other things please,
let’s not educate teens.
i cherish books,
i love stories and its diverse characters,
such as a black man who doesn’t go to jail,
books in which the future is female,
a world with more than two genders,
where you can forget heteronormativity,
and have more than a coming-out story,
and be carefree in your high school’s corridors.
i adore writing books,
with long and moving sentences
with a girl who’s aromantic and happy,
with a trans woman who doesn’t have a p*ssy,
with welcomed refugees,
in which genre is a spectrum,
with a non-binary character wearing a septum,
with a woke white boy correctly using his privileges.
the purpose of books is to create a safe place for everyone when reality isn’t.