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You don't have to accept me.
That's the least of my troubles.
Why on earth would I want
To fit in with you unoriginal doubles?

If "normality" is what you seek,
You won't find it around me.
Not that it matters.
You're blind to the fact that I'm about to be free.

Free from the never ending chain
Of unimaginativity and bore.
I just want to be noticed.
I don't ask for any more.

How do I make my escape?
Slowely and neat,
Or do I jump,
Not caring where I land with my feet?

I could wear long sleeves
to hide where I cut.
I could wear short-shorts
And become a slut.

I could get tattoos and piercings;
Cut my hair and dye it obnoxious red.
I could grow my hair out and never shower;
Smoke funny things and stay in bed.

And if none of these work for me,
There's one last idea on the shelf;
I'd stand out, that's for sure:
I could just be myself.