We are a fusion of something that doesn't match together—
a slow beat on a fast tempo
or some distilled water on viscous.
A dance step on a wrong music genre
or a hot brewed coffee in a summer.
We make the worse combination out of all mixes in the club,
and they hate it for whatever fuck reason about that collab.
A strange flavor sipped in a sippy-cup
or a loud synth on a slow reverb.
The fact that it's horrible,
makes other people label it terrible.
The reality that we existed,
creates a fusion of satisfaction and hatred.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of an Introvert
PoetrySecond book of the The Dorks Are Shining. A poetry and some random thoughts filed to create a meaningful reflection of what society really is and how does life work.
