Fit

Folly fazes the gracious eye,
Constrictions to character,
Bars to complex,
Societal carrier,
Of self and I.

To pick myself from the steaming street,
Thin shoes and screaming feet,
Miles along the road,
With weakened eyes the horizon folds.

I am gracious,
Strange, vivacious,
I am blazer, and slacks,
Straight razor and vintage coat racks,
I am smart, socially unspoken,
I am the product of common sense broken,
By battles and wars,
Fresh kidneys, clogged pores,
I am not “cool” to the caddish,
I am cruel to the faddish,
When I speak,
The tongue doesn’t slap my teeth,
I have no bodily deformities to keep,
I’m simply…universally unique,
I want to fit nowhere.

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