Diagnols...

This is when I lose all of my

Artistic prowess…

When words are boiling,

Too bloated with high.

The altitude receding

From my diagonal point

Of view….

Chastised, beating

With the sounds of

Me and you.

I’ve got a skewed line

Of sight,

And on either side

Standing with a crutch is

the real me.

in the middle’s curving radius

Traveling

Taking prisoners

“this is how I lie…”

It’s the real me.

Correction,

Facilities….

I’m a walking inclination

For circling disasters,

And dramatic encounters.

I kid you not,

I’m that one b*****d child…

Criticize me at a distance,

Make me cry….because

I’m ignorant and I’m dumb…

And, I don’t know the difference

Between something and none.

I want to be like you, because

I already am…you’re not sure of

Anything, even when you say you

Are. And, you believe in everyone but

yourself. And, that’s not much

Of anything.

And, we’re just playing in the sun,

Imagination’s run wild,

I’m the real me. Fighting

child.