I’m a maladroit young gal.

Did you just search what that means?

It means I’m clumsy. I mean, look at how my rhymes go all flimsy.

Words stacked together, never just in twos or threes.

Just a bottle of broken glass that was never meant to be.

That’s me.

That is my beauty.

So although the dictionary and society be judging all the maladroits out there

We don’t care.

Let us sip our teas as they cry in despair.

Cause they can only wish they were as cool as us -

Real as us -

Free as us.

Everyone seems to be faking it, really.

That’s why I’d rather be maladroit:

Maladroit and happy.