I am irrelevant

     - irrelevant -  

From the age of five to eighteen,  
I was taking medicine 

    - was taking medicine -  

They called it Dexedrine.  

It made every 
             element 
of my    essence 
feel like excrement.  

A repellent pushing electrons like 
          exotic matter  
until they pulled out 
  plasma guns to 
        dislodge my atoms.  

Tossed and scattered  
Like slop to fatten hogs, 
       the scrap in  
direct offence  
to the Higgs Boson data.
  
My particles can't participate,  
  because every article I articulate  
   is stopped 
   harder than foreigners  
   flocking to a far-right ministate.
  
Coagulated consciousness.
  
Confess that I've conjured this;  
  by the first definition in Oxford,  
   the second in Merriam.

Adolescent infatuation.  

Needed abonnement and initiation.  
The accomplishment still received indignation.  

I. SIMPLY. COULD NOT. WIN.  

One moment I'm on stage being praised,  
The next, rage and fists coming close to my face.
  
    I'm just not in their best interest.
    They'll move on with other candidates.  

I later learned my election  
came before every progenitor's erection.
  
Early on, I wouldn't stand for it.  
The crucible was a crux.  
Crushed under foot and they put a nail in them.  
I said, 
           
          "SO?!" 
      
“Sarah put her nails in the back of my hand; 
you've got two holes, I've got four!"
  
Someone told me, “The violent take it by force.”  
Or fourths, the math forged itself into my theorems.  
The probability compelled me.  
I was told by twenty-one I would be a statistic. 
I am not ribbing, I am not rhyming, I am not rhythmi–   

     I'm sorry. I did it again.  

Maybe the reader wants to write me off.  
That's perfectly fine. I've found my AUTHOR.