I checked once.
I checked twice,
I checked thrice
and that third time
  became obsession.
Fixed, call it oppression.

I am much more sentimental than my younger self would like me to be.
A love for poetry, my feelings and all things sappy.

I am much more sentimental than my younger self would like me to be.
My eyes that water at the tolerable words you tell me.

I am much more sentimental than my younger self would like me to be.
I want to forget the past but this nostalgia's calling for me.

I am weird  
Born weird  
And in the desperate urge not to be  
I tried to take another form —  
A shape made from a mold that wasn’t mine.

And the pain of not fitting into what was expected off me…  
Turned into despair.

Claustrophobic, crushed  
Inside a mold that was never made for my shape.

And the pain?  
The pain of the molds  
Was greater than the despair itself.

Still, I go on
Still…  
Weird.