not your entertainment
as i write you a letter
with this dark cyan colored
pencil
it occurs to me that perhaps
this is the reason you
cut me loose,
because i didn't fit so perfectly
with my triangular form
into your rectangle;
because i never do things the
normal way
father never seemed to tire
of telling me
that—
but why try to fit in
when you were born to
stand out?
i will not be less than me
even if it offends
you
because i was not put on this
earth to impress men,
but to do the work
of God—
this little light of mine
i'm going to let it shine even if
people; like you,
always try to put it out.
not any pansy
when it rains, it pours;
and when i fall
no one catches me
i've always slain my own
dragons—can't wait
for some hero to save me,
but it would be nice
to be held in the
arms of someone that cared
someone that wanted
to share their life with me;
and wanted to
know my history—yet i
don't know if someone
in that great, wide out there
exists for me;
i stood out in the snow
once catching it on
my tongue,
and no one seemed to
understand
why i'd behave that way—
i'm a child at heart,
and i'll never change
growing up is for pansies;
and i've always found
them to be ugly
little flowers.
leave me be
people are hell
in all their want and
need, i just
desire to be alone
let me think
up a new plot and story
expand on some of
my novels;
but don't call me out
for tea and crumpets
i'd rather be
a recluse
than deal with people
ignorant, arrogant, and cruel—
would rather indulge
on a walk alone through
the countryside of
my youth,
and sing song to the
blue birds; dance with
the butterflies
babble to the brooks
swim with her fishes and
pebbles—
torment is found in
people so give
me solace in a juniper tree
on an igloo of sand.
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