Inkblot

Parading me in front of strangers was not in the job description. Always asking about their feelings and what they see. I have feelings too. Would you like to be called a lamp, or duck, a piece of shit. Since when was calling each other names nice. I have my own issues just like the next guy but you don’t see me bitching about it. I’m on that card 24/7 being probed with eyes and hurtful words. It’s not my fault I’m not symmetrical with patterned lines intriguing only the prettiest adjectives mustarded up from cupcakes, glitter, and rainbows. I’m the real deal. Seeing a shrink? Then you gotta answer to me. And don’t bullshit…everyone doesn’t see butterflies when you squint your eyes and tilt your head to the left.

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