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Out Of The Darkest Mind

They say I’m “Dysfunctional”,
But I don’t know what that really means.
How could I possibly be
Anyone else, but the imperfect me?
Who wants a paragon,
A sweeping tribute to the “Norm”,
Who would never step out of line
Or blur the “Proper” bounds,
Who would shun crazy schemes
And look down their nose
At people like me?
Why can’t I be myself,
With all my flaws
Crazy ideas
Impetuous deeds
And natural Sensuality?
Why must there be a box,
A box they build around me?
What are they afraid of?
I think its envy
Nothing more.
I embody everything they wish they were,
So they try and drag me down
And snuff out my light,
But they won’t succeed without a fight.
Because I am me,
And no one else,
And that is all the truth I’ll ever need.

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