It was never once a question
Of whether or not she loved me
. . . Though I did question it . . .
Of course she loved me
She loved everyone
Misfits, rejects, broken hearts
Why would I be different?
But in the end,
That was the question
Was I different from everyone else?
And if so,
Why?
She never once gave me an answer
If Someone Were To Write A Poem About Me, This Is What It Would Say.