Why can’t I be your type?
Live up to your stereotypes?
The lashes and bruises they are etched in my mind,
I wish I could stripe them away.
You want me to be active, you passive whatever that means.
I see your profile has categorised and placed me on the shelf,
It sparkles brightly.
The … lie.
Your wish, I define as being selfish: to deny another the pleasure and experience.
Ah, the inane need to conform.
I cannot live up to your…