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I have a box that has all the songs I never sang,
All the promises I never kept,
Men and women I chose to forget...
You don't have to struggle with the
Last line,
I bet you can see the archetypes of A misfit in the box.
Although I stay put as they decide
Whether I'm dead or alive,
Like some of the people who smell
Of death; I thought they were
Friends from the other side.
I never spoke of them,
Not even to my parents,
Who guessed I will be able to
Retain all the goodness, like a fruit
In the market...
I put them inside the box as well,
Ideas beaten, smashed and
Twisted beyond measure:
We debated if values had any value
Over bland soups,
Passing salt across the table.
The box has a see-through lid,
And you can see what's inside...
Like in an emporium, the glass
Cases storing toxin, lust and
Greed-- you need a bigger trolley
Oh dear!
As I contemplate getting inside the
Box myself, with everything else
Unmarred there;
Everyone needs a safe haven after
All, but the doorbell rings and
I put myself back in the body.
Amidst the confusion of contemporary life, its complications and the unmet expectations, some people settle for the word 'misfit' to describe their dilemma. The poem comes from that feeling
Does the sender dance to the tune of the rights
Does the messenger believe in love and call it food
Love letters washed in limbo, I've stopped
Sands and jaded solace of Soho and the midnight lurks hanging like gallows stark in starlight just like we hugged
The arms of the machinist broken by the assuaged quirks

We won, and this integrity of the jejune kind
A lively berry in the possibilities and
Probabilities of time, flickering crystalline face like the mirror across your sea
Ripe and the average
                                                                             Brit ****** mystery

doesn't excite your insightful side
Here something for you, to remember, I have
drawn the lines to tell
                                                me where does it draw to my incubation
Something that makes this broken poetry

Sounds complete when                    you are reading enough from me
Trending poem, titled indelible plenary
How is it really?
My first poem.
The outed vapidly overlord and the crowd wasted their zaftig sad Breaths

Looking through the ash Wednesday, plump like April lovers
On the chance of there being it had an ashen pit and zero literary Summers

How it has hurt the boy, livin' in a pack, your smirking snake-like lips too wandering the halls with voluptuary sweetness
A deep book has more than the hunger for knowledge saved by timeless tocsins

Lilacs, fire alarms spring buds of May
The best part of living a passionate life is looking for the same Vigilant of summers, out of precedence and

Giddy journeys translated into books, culture posits culture
Between being decided or undecided
Berries were edible or indelible hither likewise, subjects hung out in deranged zephyrs

Tomorrow appears like a valediction
The same power that reigns over us, can put us in our places
We met and meandering mazes, made sense out of our ways
My first poem.
Eloisa Jul 27
Yes, you are indeed right.
I’m weird and a bit strange
unconventional, odd, different.
But no,
I do not want to cut myself into pieces to suit
to your approval of what’s normal
and what’s needed.
I do not need to edit myself to fit in.
I do not need to apologize for what
and who I am.
I am strong enough to live my life in my own terms.
I dance to the beat of my own music.
It doesn’t matter if nobody understands me.
I am just being me.
I am real.
I am beautiful.
I am unique.
I am a proud misfit.
~ A co-worker asked me a week ago of what I usually do during my free time and I  answered that I read poetry and scribble some pieces most of the time. Shaking his head, my reply invited a chuckle and an eye roll  from the others as well.
Lilly F Jul 17
I have to fit my hand into yours,
like forcing misfit puzzle pieces together,
just to get you to hold my hand

realizations @1:06 AM
Ahnaf Jun 11
In this world,
there are some of us who get left behind
because we don’t fit the bill.
A bill that is arbitrarily in place and which
makes some magnificent, many perfectly normal,
and some of us a bunch of unworthy f*s who don’t
deserve affection, attention, and any of your time.

Go on, erase us from your narrative, from this world’s narrative,
erase us completely because our bodies are a certain way,
because it would require you to change your perspective slightly
to accommodate us into your view,
because there’s a billion to choose from who are perfectly normal

We might as well be not human because some of us don’t get to
experience human joys strictly because of how we look.
The least you could do is understand very clearly this fact
that for whatever reason, not all of us are able to experience being a human in the sense that most of you are able to
I've been struggling for years with my body image related trauma. This was just a quick rant to ease the tension I had been feeling before I put the words down.
Farheen Khan May 1
What I feel
Can't always have words
Something about me is
Different from the others
Having to live in this world
I always wonder
Do I really belong here
Or is it just a dream
I will wake up too
Feeling and heart
A Simillacrum Apr 13
Circus Who Cares
arrives by night, places
fliers in torchlight.

Circus Some ****
riding train. Look
where graffiti is facing.

It's true, tracks can divide.
John Hughes marketed lies.
It's true, it's difficult --

But in this cult, none of us
wants to be you.
F < |< 666
Nylee Mar 14
It is magical
when the nature creates the world
So perfectly imperfect
That I, a misfit, can fit right in
I always have a feeling I don't fit
I am not an expert in social niceties
All my conversation comes out too forced
And all my reaction little too slow

I like the corner of the room
a place where no eyes will zoom
an invisible entity
with a hint of superiority

I am entitled to my thoughts
but not of anything else
I am so conceited self
when not kept in check

I am unique
no mirror yet found
so is everyone special
a no good excuse, please

I crib and cry
I live and lie
I have growing feeling of
I want and I cannot

This continues for long
I really do not belong
the chances are that
there are no chances
I just want to skip it
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