Combed grass and shattered leaves

Broken needles and cracking knees

Bundled in jackets and worn out sleaves

_My _world is a palace _I _cannot leave

Water sloshes _my _socks, it feels like honey

A thought caked in time and kind of funny

But the welts and spite threatens the chummy-

Ideations _I_ hide to keep food in _my _tummy

Discomfort is temporary and “they seem just fine”

Jumping and frolicking, no call to whine

A procaline spread awaits them; a shrine

A cockany of bustling, bumbaling mimes

For life is perfect when you’re left unaffected

By a world thats not crafted to keep you infected

_I _blame not myself but the ‘people’; directives

Who make quite a scene and declare _I _was “REGECTED”

For _I _freeze in the warm

_I’m_ not meant for the cold

But the dire weather has made me bold

A flu like feeling is all i am left with

For the life I have “chosen” was endlessly deceptive

Sworn freedom at the price of pure self-relience

A philosophers dream, a fools best kept science

So _I_ coo in the face of this rotten mold

_ I _hold in my lungs a Cheshire gold

A filet of bone, a platter of old;

Dead and dying, flesh sold-

To the highest bidder - from years of endless wanting

I escaped from a cage built by paraless hunting -

Envy is my great escape.

But in a body that’s shaken, I must break; a slate.

A tongue woven as bate.

Lunges dried by hate.