poem: the best thing i can be is lonely

the best thing i can be is lonely

the boy next to me has scars on his

lips where something was forcibly

ripped out

i think it was maybe my mental edge

i think we’re maybe soulmates,

that his black finger nails are meant to

prick at my skin

but then he stands up

and walks

to his friends and i think

how does he manage that

when i’m just the same as him

but i’m still sitting here,

alone

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