dancing, hands clasped

under the train tracks

alone, thinking of my other two halves

seeing one walk away

knowing the other stayed

in a haven three hours away

alone, the three sides of

each others’ minds

the emo, the punk, and the multi-homicide

alone, in separate worlds

of the same creation

refusing to become a manifestation,

a cookie-cutter suburban girl,

alone, as most artists must

be to create artwork they trust

reveals their hidden souls that lust

to simply be alone

yet for we three halves of psychosis

alone is simply a hypnosis

induced by those who do not need

a daunting on their herds of Aeropostale sheep

for they’ll never know what it means

to have two other halves who understand

that we must love it when we weep