Just because I wear black
doesn’t mean that I hate
pinker hues: I simply lack
the knack for social cues. Dates
passed by, times swim past, but
I still stand behind my fort
of mortification, hidden as I cut
with wit and jests, my cohorts,
that painted me as emotionless,
strong, independent, borderline
arrogant, who wants to be peerless,
Fearless. Who could care less? Fine!
I shall retain the fact that I eyed
the bouquets of pinks and reds,
feel the envy rose and bloomed.
A childish, seasonal wrath, be read.