Writing poetry has become 

an automatic response 

to the slightest wave 

of rejection 

washing me up onto the shore 

covering me in seaweed 

and telling me i dont 

belong  

Rejection blankets me 

in teary eyes 

tugs at my heart 

leaves me to die 

As if the society 

that rejected me 

dunked my head 

under the sea water  

and my weeps we...

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