inflorescence

why do you never ask the real questions?

why does the “i”
in family mean that
i must be isolated;
a lonely island of one,
was i cursed to never truly
fit in? emotions rage inside
of me; i am my own tsunami.
i wreck havoc, on myself,
those around me-am i a
monster? a staple black sheep,
maybe, just maybe, they will
stop blaming me…


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2 thoughts on “why do you never ask the real questions?”

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