Overly vexed and highly
frustrated.

Sedated by illusions
and made up manifestations,

I wonder if there is even
a space, a place for
a misfit.

Is the misfit on a steady roll
of misunderstanding and constant
blend in wallpaper syndrome?

In a place or society where misunderstooders
and their quest to seek peace
and acceptance, society rather
boot them out.

Kick them to the curb and leave them
hopeless, stagnant and drowning in
self-doubt so steep, that even fish can't
get that deep.

Trapped abysses of never seeing eye to eye
or never being heard because their point of views
or their ideas don't suit the narrative.

The picture of health.

They tucked themselves deep,
trying to make themselves smaller to fit in the corner
of y'all picture frame.

When the lines are blurred and you border
line lose yourself,
trying to appease and be pleased.

But there's no space for them there.

Happiness isn't brought, there is no stockroom
with boxes of shipment with happiness inside.

So what do they do?

Be silent.
Be weary.

Tuck yourself down in the corner
of their picture frame.

It's the only thing that ever matters anyway.