The thing about being able to morph
Your behaviour around that of other’s
Is that you often find yourself
At crossroads with your own idiosyncrasies
Because that’s exactly where I was too
Wondering, dreaming, trying to
Separate the rights from the wrongs.
My rights weighed much lesser
Than all my individual wrongs
And I had succumbed to the thought
That this was where I belonged
For every little corner that I set a
Foot on would ablaze with remains
Of the alleged toxicity and scorn.
So I tried to fix what didn’t need to be
A part of this world, is what I thought
Every little piece that offered to fall apart
I’d pick it and shelf it atop a rack
Of forgotten glass shards from the past
I’d count numbers on my fingers and
Breathe till I could say: I forgot.