Outcast
It’s all my fault, ’shouldn’ve know that from the start,
In your life, I’m the mis-shapen part.
The distorted edge, or the last puzzle piece,
the messy apartment, wrongfully put up for lease.
I don’t fit in, and you don’t like that.
I’m the frayed scarf, a tear in your velvet hat.
So let me get swept away, like dirt,
or clipped, like a thread off your shirt.
Let me drift, free into the sky.
Feel free to ignore me, don’t even try,
to make me feel normal, or keep me grounded,
because I’ve given up, after all the alarms I’ve sounded.
Pretend they’re just wind chimes,
or all the spare pennies, nickels and dimes,
in the bottom of your change purse.
Or an empty heart beating in the back of a hearse.
You don’t need me, so don’t shed a tear-
because, guess what- I’m no longer here.

Meeee-13




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