A song forced me to write this.
Crawled into my veins,
desperate acoustics seeping in.
Rough voice crackling my frontal lobe to life.
Although I'm not writing from pure emotion
I can feel that Jessie can see me.
She understands that I'm here.
Alone,
In the dark
At 1 am,
Singing to an unfamiliar language.
I'm much like her.
Alone because we believe we're not worth it.
She believes his mother won't approve,
I don't approve myself.
Although I can't figure which is stronger,
Self-hate or external hate.
Which sparks a sad thought,
I'll never be anyone's love.
I'll never be a "the one"
The person that completes another.
I'm a lost jigsaw piece.
Screaming from under the couch,
People hear me and pay attention
But eventually forget I'm there and leave.
Understanding it's okay.
I'm allowed to be incomplete.
Although however much I want to fit.
A square peg can go into a triangle hole.
I'll be the tomato to the fruit around me,
part of the group but never claimed.
