My Shit is Dark….

My shit is dark… that’s what they all say;

Why can’t you write  about daisies and hearts, about love and happiness?

So dingy, so dank, mopey even.

Who says that I must conform to your idea of normalcy?

What is normalcy?

Who says I must be like you?

Who says I must be like them?

Did you give me something good to write about?

My shit s dark… but how do you know?

What is your yardstick for judging me?

Am I too gloomy… too gothic?

Do I see only the negatives around me?

Do I ask too many controversial questions?

My shit is dark… but you must remember

That light cannot exist with darkness, or darkness without light.

Oh how my shit is dark… but I love it just the same,

I twirl in it, dance in it; come alive to my dark shit;

I love to feel the rush of emotions

When I Penn my darkness on paper;

When I put down my random, schizophrenic thoughts.

As I rock back and forth chanting the same ole thing,

“My shit is dark” “my shit is dark”

Caught up in my ecstasy

I can’t help feeling how dark my shit really is.

Yet, it’s me… my reality, my life, my past, my existence.

I don’t ask you to dissect it,

Just to accept it… because this dark shit is me.

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