I joined your family
to show my former tormenters
I was worth the land I stood upon.
But you pulled away my carpet,
over a pile of jagged rocks.
Finding my feet, I perfected control
and made myself at home.
Why should I feel small and worthless
when your superior scoff
snaps from your hollow turnip face?
So here I am, standing on my own,
empty handed, with my art on my walls.
I don’t want to abide by you
and mock the things you ignore to see.
I’d rather stay on my spiral
than be diluted in your banal flock.
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