Im the child
of two opposites
you can call
me even
the weirdo of the season
born a heathen
as a middle
child I quit
believen

Never the first
or the last
if created as
a number
I'd be 3 out of
6, 2.5
out of 5

I'm the key
to your door
let me open you
up
the age of
a girl when
introduced to
drugs
Creativity
I'm your master
can't draw or sing
poetrys my thing

I'm moody
to my
self for I try
To decline it
tend to leave
things unfinshed like
sucide attempts
or purging assignaments

Decipher me
from this
poem into who
I really am
trust and believe
it's nothin
close to
who you really
think I am