'I'm better' you cry
But there are tears in your eye
And I beg you to please comply
Don't write that goodbye

In three months you'll hear sirens
Not for you, but who can tell
All you can feel is the cold iron
And that hospital smell

Throw away the notes you hid
Like the marks underneath your sleeves
The medicine is out of reach
Just like the recovery they sing in bold lights

Four thin walls
Closing me in
Screams in the halls
Repent for my sins

Four blocks to run
My steps are heavy
Away from the gun
How I envy

Four breaths in
In the nearby office
No one will win
in America's sickness

He wants to be your boy
Soft and innocent
And rough, but coy
Though, he knows he'll never be intimate

You want to be a boy
A defined jaw
Ecstatic and full of joy
The most handsome boy you ever saw

I am a boy
I ruffle my hair when I talk
Standing confident in corduroy
But the definition is lost in the fog

My thoughts are disregarded like weeds
Just a bother in the concrete
Tried to be a flower for your enjoyment
As it turns out, I'm the disappointment

**** me out, one by one
But keep me around for the fun
When you bloom next to a ****
You look better than unaccompanied

Because my value is less
As it lowers your success
Compared to that of a flowers
My company just sours

Where do I fit in the mess of a kingdom?
The brave and loyal?
The soft and innocent?
Or the commanding and respected?

The soldier points her sword at me
"You know nothing of what a soldier should be"
She recites the lives she took
how she runs from death's lethal hook

I run the poet, and they stare at me
"You know nothing of what a poet should be"
They spin a tale of the nights they spend
looking for a muse, how they just pretend

I kneel before the King, and he lets me speak
"You know nothing of what a king should be"
He bellows about his isolated life with fame
without someone else to take the blame

I don't think I want to be a solider poet or king
I'd rather just run away into the woods
the woods where I live for myself
and not some corrupted hierarchy

How much abuse faced
By the divergent kids
Not even traced
Back to the inhuman grids

The thought of difference, frightening
Coursing by the lust for control
Deforming them by touching
The most vulnerable parts of the soul

The title vulnerable graffitied over valuable
Innovation of this generation unbound
Not differently-abled, but disabled
Abuse goes on, the kids are not found

The storm rubbles in the eye
Of the man who never said goodbye
The lilac clashes against the fire
Home is the one place he is the liar

And the passion of flames fills his ears
The loudest screams, he does adhere
From the doubt he set at an early age
Caught in the cycle of endless rage

The scarred lips touch his own
The array of curls is not unknown
To the limit of time he did not speak
But in the stars the fire does seek