Trying to render words like some epic,
I am incapable.
The process is autonomic,
Only arriving when undesired and unwanted.

Place your eyes unto me,
I am ambiguous,
I am pretentious,
but I will tell thee,
I can write,
and I might as well damn fight.

If you choose to provoke me,
I'm too far above,
sitting in my tall tree,
I shall shove,
shove you off that unbalanced balance you so gracefully stand upon.

But I like to sit on the floor,
or even under the ground,
beneath you,
to hear the unfamiliar sounds,
that exist only in the void of my ears.

"You don't know real pain",
I'm sorry if it seems that way,
but you're the one who's living in Act II Scene III,
You're the cliché.

You bastard,
I rejected you?
I gave you the chance to deem yourself worthy,
but you couldn't even comprehend the level on which I breathe,
I toyed with your heart?
All I did was tell you I didn't care for the exterior,
and you presumed I wanted you too.

And now you feel you have the right to be angered,
to make me feel guilty and burdened,
Alas, my beloved,
I'm laughing,
and I shall never stop.
For you were nothing to me,
never will be,
because you have no personality.

I'll give you the pleasure of hearing a few ultimate words from me,
that which I abhor more than anything,
is when people lie just to fit in.