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Wooden Rhino
July 7, 2016
Stop! Stop! Stop!
Stop those miniatures T-Rexes from colliding in my head
Leave me and my mediocre style to my hand
Stop telling me I am not special
Now, I am 15 years in tangible grim
Trapped and slaving away to disillusionment
Meet the contemporary monsters
I wear costumes right and left
Always feeling naked,Always feeling exposed
But, clusters and passes of colors live locked in my head's garden
Can I be the blue marker,the green in the forest's verdure,red in the stand out rose
Just leave me to die,I will be fine
Playing with the thinning strings in my head ossifies into self-destruction
I want to be the pen or the marker or the wooden rhino on my desk
© Anonymous
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Inner rage and dissatisfaction with what I have done can sometimes lead to me write oddly enough.