I don't write
For you,
Normal
Love obsessed
Average
People.
I write for the
Malcontent
Who could never
Really fit in.
The ones where
Life didn't get better,
It got worse.
Someone who
Can relate
To constant negativity.
And,
I find them,
I always find them.
We declare
A niggling doubt
That your positivity,
Is tenuous at best,
While we are consumed
By dark
Thoughts.
Traumatic
Life events.
A dismal dark
Alley way to be
Our bed.
Drugs
And
Violence.
Your problem
Is you wanna see a reflection
Of yourself in other people.
You are,
Entitled.
You are,
Fragile.
You are.
Annoying.
No one even asked
Your *******
Opinion
Or
Approval.
I am exclusive,
Rare,
And nothing
That's available
Or relatable.
Is valuable.
