Normal


I became psittacism in the eye’s of normalities of society.

Bluntly said; I became societies bitch.

Always conforming to societies way,
never lening in my own direction.

I became robotic,
repeditive, and useless.

Normal was my way,
gathering with the other’s,
never skipping out.

My lines formed no different than the other’s, meet them at an angle more pleasing, for the eadges were normal.

When in reality I am not a meaturment of such angles,
as normal can be constricting
and discomforting at all the high levels.

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