We were perfect misfits,
my pieces and I.
We chose not to align
in a way the world wanted us to.
Rebelling against the world
we were amorphous
taking no shape whatsoever,
The rebellion however
was an ongoing battle on two fronts.
One on the inside,
one I fought with the pieces of me
and one we fought together
standing side by side.
I was always in conflict with my pieces,
We somehow always, always agreed to disagree,
It made me angry because I was fighting a war constantly to be free and here I was
wanting to control myself.
I kept forgetting that the point of this war
with the outside world, was a war
for the aftermath and freedom to just be.
And here I was fighting with myself
not letting myself simply be, what I wanted to be
I kept forgetting these pieces
were what I was in the end,
how could I expect them to be any different?
They were simply pieces of a bigger renegade
They were pieces of me.