Misfit of Mayhem

I don’t play
your pretty little popularity games--
don’t sit in circles
where everyone’s pretending
they’re not pretending.

Fuck that.

I don’t laugh on cue
or keep up with who's who
or say “OMG” at the right volume
when someone posts something fake
and calls it “real talk.”

I drift,
I dance off-beat.
I make noise
when silence is expected.
I don’t blend in,
and I don’t want to.

You can keep
your cliques
and curated chaos.
I’ve got chaos of my own--
louder,
grittier,
the kind that tastes like freedom
and sounds like a song
no one’s brave enough to sing.

I don't kiss anyone's ass.
I speak like a storm,
I walk like I own
every scar that shaped me.

I’m not here
to be liked
for someone I'm not.
I’m here
to be.

So yeah--
call me weird,
wild,
too much,
not enough.
Call me
Misfit of Mayhem.

And I’ll smile
like a wolf,
and go on doing
exactly
what the fuck I like.