I don’t like you.
Not the things you do.
Or say.
Not the way you smile,
Or the times you choose to laugh.
Worst of all when you scream.
You’re my blood,
But you pollute me.
I never want to be you.
I never want to need you.
I hate you.

What does it mean to
'Fit in'?
Where is this 'in'?
What are we fitting to?
Is there a mould 
I wasn’t told
about.

Why do you want me to ‘fit in’?
Am I not special enough?
Or, is that I’m too special?
Must I wash myself with simplicity?

And what if I don’t.
‘Fit in’.
What will you do to me then?
Axe me from society?
Label me different?

What if I told you,
I didn’t care?
What if I told you,
In a perfect ‘fit’,
I murdered the version of me,
That was desperate to
Fit in.

These fabrics,
Unforgiving, Unkind.
I want to tear what does not fit me.
Scream "Why do I not fit?"
not even a little bit.
Why do these mirrors shine light on my ugly?
"Why am I ugly".

I know you.
Your loves, likes, nerves, sensitivities.
I've heard every story you have to tell.
I've heard you tell them hundreds of times.

You laugh at the same moments,
Use the same phrases.
I've heard them so often I'd be able to tell them myself.

But,
One day,
I might not know you.

I may be the last to hear your stories,
and won't be able to predict your laugh.
Your phrases may be foreign.
And characters and settings will need describing.

I may not be your lifelong companion.
I might not want to be.
And maybe that's ok.

Maybe I'll be a fresh pair of ears
To listen to your new,
Practice-perfected stories.

You tore my heart out of my chest.
Nails clawed, teeth bared.
My haunting demon.
Your tongue has a flair for judgement,
You eyes for shame.
You bat your wings and fly above.
Do you enjoy looking down at me ?
Suddenly I’m small,
Suddenly you can’t see me anymore.
I’m gone.

But I thought friends are meant to
Last forever ?

You placed her under a flame.
That warm, infamously eternal, kiss.
The pressure ignited,
Sparks erupted,
You cheered for the light show
And mimicked its dance.

But you’re taken aback,
When she suggests
That maybe, She's
Burnt out.

I want to craft something beautiful to express how I'm feeling
But I'm too desperate.
I need an immediate release.
There's no time for beauty so
A careless rant will have to do.