Perspective

i won't fit.

in your monochromatic

houses: lined up, so neat

like a row of pencils—pitchforks!

in the hands of paper

soldiers marching down,

and down,

and down,

stomping in my rabbit hole.

so,

SPIT ME OUT!

i listened to the temptation

of a begging bottle.

now i'm too big for you

to chew, i'm gaining

new perspective.

sink your teeth into this.