October 3, 2001 ~ Stealing My Teenage Death Poetry
I don't know why, exactly, but something inspired me to search for the first line of one of my oldest, most horribly written poems that I put up on the Internet when I was 15 (I wrote it when I was 13).
It was gothic teenage death poetry. Bad gothic teenage death poetry. You know, the ones that say, when translated out of all the gothic language, "Oh, woe is me, I am going to kill myself, because nobody understands me, and I am dead anyway." They use darkness and death a lot. Yeah. Those teenage death poems.
No, don't bother looking; it is not anywhere on this site, nor will it ever be.
I found this poem on four sites. Only one of those sites had actually credited it to my Internet name. All of the other sites were homepages where the author claimed it as her own. One girl even used that poem as the splash page, the entry page to her entire site. All of them had little copyright notices on it, saying that they wrote it and if anyone stole it they would sue that person. One girl even had several sentences at the bottom about how mean it would be for someone to steal it.
This amused me for two reasons.
One: All of these girls were so very self-righteous and indignant about copyright when they themselves were stealing my poem and putting their names on it.
Two: That poem is quite possibly the worst poem that I have ever written. And people are stealing it and using it as the entry to their websites. *snicker*
They know that they stole it. So should I email these girls and give them a scare? Sign their guestbooks? Send them strange and mysterious scary messages? Or just leave them alone, because, if they are so desperate as to steal that poem and claim it as their own, then I should probably just let them be?
Any other ideas?
My guestbook is waiting.
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