I don't write
For you,
Normal
Love obsessed
Average
People.

I write for the
Malcontent
Who could never
Really fit in.

The ones where
Life didn't get better,
It got worse.

Someone who
Can relate
To constant negativity.

And,
I find them,
I always find them.

We declare
A niggling doubt
That your positivity,
Is tenuous at best,
While we are consumed
By dark
Thoughts.

Traumatic
Life events.

A dismal dark
Alley way to be
Our bed.

Drugs
And
Violence.

Your problem
Is you wanna see a reflection
Of yourself in other people.

You are,
Entitled.

You are,
Fragile.

You are.
Annoying.

No one even asked
Your *******
Opinion
Or
Approval.

I am exclusive,
Rare,
And nothing
That's available
Or relatable.

Is valuable.