It's so easy to hang your head in shame,
To apologise without sincerity.
It's so easy to wither and crumple,
To let self loathing eat away at you like blight.
It's so easy to allow yourself to become nothing; something temporary.
Simplicity is a requirement,
we avoid all which attracts anarchy within us.
We do not anticipate accidents, we do not anticipate
those who clamber into our lives and shine
with individuality and complexion -
we fear those who possess difference.
It reminds us of what we lack,
or of what we are too afraid to expose to others.
And I fell in love with a rose, when I am merely a dandelion.
I write poems only to destroy them immediately;
endless words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me.
I wither, I crumple.
I chose simplicity.