Beside a full size bed,
full of destiny and dream,
a corpse dressed up
to fit among
the living, softly sleeps.

Carving sAl(i)vAtiOn in black
marker on the walls,
recounting upset memories,
I stick the landing.
I didn't plan to stay

In this depressive state,
but I'm fully equipped.
Adaptable to necessity,
without trying to fit.
I may be sad, reclusive,
virulent at my worst --

When will you
come to terms with this curse?
When will you learn
it's best
you be
who you
need?

When will you
fall in love with this curse?

When will you learn,
there's plenty room
for the misfit?