About a Boy

 In explanation to what you're about to read, this poem is based on a "dramatic monologue" assignment I did for a Creative Writing course. I chose to write in the voice of Kurt Cobain. It was an incredibly eye-opening experience learning so much about his youth, family life, struggles with himself and with the world he lived in. I wrote from his last moments of life, as he reflected on music, relationships, and the pain. Kurt was truly an incredible individual. It amazes me how misunderstood he was. In society, he was depicted as a moody, depressed, melodramatic, angry grunge artist who made mysterious and suggestive music. In reality, he was a sensitive artist with a troubled past who just loved too hard and too much to live past 27. A musical genius and a beautiful person... RIP Kurt Cobain. The world loves you and your music, even though that was never a concern of yours. 

“About a Boy”

By Kara Larson

When you close your eyes—

Everything disappears.

Drop your lids on me.

Close your eyes to my existence.

Forget about my measly fucking life.

I’ve been searching for freedom from pain forever—

Today, I will reach Nirvana.

Punk was my release, the counter to this society of gluttony.

I found friends in my head, in the chords of my guitar,

My words, my music, my poetry—

They used to help—now I swim deep in a jar of honey.

I screamed into the mic, releasing years of fury,

But now, I am simply an unhealed scar.

The daggers in my stomach stab without remorse—I’m ready to be free.

But a pain far worse than this stems from love.

I can’t think about Frances or Cortney—

They will be better off without me.

Nothing in life will ever transcend love.

It’s the feeling that changes everything—softens humanity.

Society never understood the man I was.

They saw weirdness, an oddity, an impalpable question—

A man so fucked—but who are they to judge?

They aren’t in any less of a depression.

I could stare through their plastic façade.

Into their apathetic minds, laced with manure.

Their blood is the same as mine—they are not God.

It’s all too much now—my soul is raw, while my love remains pure.

They raped me of my happiness.

Offering my simple mind so lifeless an escape.

Drugs, sex, fame, money—“Nothing less.”

And now I’m stuck here alone—in a life so dead—too late to reshape.

Regret, security, love, and pain,

The feelings of a boy too broke to speak.

Nothing but cold coursing through my veins,

We are all fucked and weak.

The possessions, the hate, the ridicule—

What is this world coming to?

A playground for society’s fools…

My heart has taken a beating—black and blue.

Pulsating with fire—I’m the fuel.

I will never again see the world fresh with dew—

Send me into the next life—down into the drowning pool.

Looking through the scope of life,

I’m ready to give up this fight.

Take it all now—forever.

Forget about my legacy,

Pull the trigger.