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34
Sever
<p>Flame without form</p><p>A thought burning with nowhere to land.</p><p><br/></p><p>I’m upset. That part is simple. </p><p>What stings is that I knew better.</p><p><br/></p><p>Last time I told myself I wouldn’t stand here again, </p><p>waiting to be chosen </p><p>like fairness was ever part of the design.</p><p><br/></p><p>It isn’t </p><p>It never was</p><p><br/></p><p>Still, I hoped</p><p>That’s the part that annoys me most.</p><p><br/></p><p>I stood in a field of daisies </p><p>and convinced myself the florist might pick me.</p><p><br/></p><p>Why?</p><p><br/></p><p>I’m not one of them</p><p>Never was.</p><p><br/></p><p>I was a halftime curiosity, a novelty</p><p>“Something different.” </p><p>A brief distraction before the real show resumed.</p><p><br/></p><p>No encore</p><p>Just… gone.</p><p><br/></p><p>And now I’m here, irritated not just at them, </p><p>but at myself </p><p>for expecting anything else.</p><p><br/></p><p>I say I don’t care </p><p>But I did </p><p>That’s the truth scratching at the walls.</p><p><br/></p><p>So what now?</p><p><br/></p><p>Blend in? </p><p>Pretend I grow in neat rows and predictable patterns?</p><p><br/></p><p>Or accept what I’ve always been.</p><p><br/></p><p>Unruly. </p><p>Out of place. </p><p>Growing where I shouldn’t.</p><p><br/></p><p>A dandelion in a field of daisies.</p><p><br/></p><p>Yeah… </p><p>fuck the daisies.</p><p><br/></p><p>I’m a dande-motherfucking-lion.</p>
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6
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