A Boy Like Me

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I’m a mess of a boy with nothing going on,
but that’s alright with me.
I never cut my hair or shave my face,
but that’s okay.

I won’t throw stones or break your bones.
These words were made for healing.
And if you ever catch a glimpse of a visual hiss,
just know it means nothing.

You know I like to think that I’m some sort of love child
of Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue.
To some that won’t make sense, but if you’ve ever met my parents
that makes complete sense.

A girl at a party filled with clean-cut kids said that I look like
a homeless Harry Styles.
She was trying to be offensive, so I guess show doesn’t know this,
but to a boy like me that means everything.

I never go back to the place that I called home
for eighteen years.
My family always ask when I’m coming around,
but I don’t like breaking promises.

My brown boots are getting old. Falling apart at the seams,
just like the runner who wears them.
I’m getting tired of all this walking. I’m getting tired of all this avoiding.
I’m getting tired of everything.

I think it’s time I took a break. I think it’s time I took a breath.
I think it’s time that I retraced my steps.


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