Out of character

I just attended a poetry workshop by the, THE, Andrea Gibson.
It was only amazing.
She is only amazing.
That’s it.
Anyways, during a 4 minute free writing, I wrote this. Then I read it. Then I cried.
This is a strange day. So I might as well keep pouring my heart out. It likes it on my sleeve.

Don’t stay here.

Don’t go too far away.
Learn English. Learn it well.

Don’t speak it.

Don’t live English.

Use it. Use them.
Don’t be it. Don’t be them.
Are you like them now?

Are you them?

My uncle said: She had to marry a foreigner cause apparently Sweden is not big enough for her to find somebody.

 Too picky. Too out there. Too special.

Don’t English.

Use it.

Who are you? What are you now?

Speak it. Don’t be it.
Do you remember?

Of course I remember.

I’m still you.

I’m the same.

It’s just language.

It’s not me.