The Thing

Here’s the thing, it’s I must fear.

Everyone. I can’t steer clear.

My life is a story.

That’s why I worry,

Can’t be loved.

So ungloved.

My heart is lonely,

No family owns me,

So I can’t see,

What point it be.

To deliver my full self. When I’m rotting on the shelf. Look past me with thoughts on my worth. Been shaped since birth to just get hurt. Don’t relate? No need to hate. I can’t consider you in my new meter. My palindrome leaves me alone, I’ll never call a place a home.

But I accept it.

And I’ll own it.

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