STEREOTYPE ADMIRER

She was a stereotype, just like half her class.
Adorning her room was a leftist blue Rickenbacker.
She was in love with emo one minute,
And trashy punk rock the next, along with the wind.
Her evergreens were Simple Plan, Green Day and the All-American Rejects.

He was a shy one, looking half like a girl.
A troubled family history haunted half his life.
He drowned intentionally in Malice Mizer, Miyavi, Moi dix Mois,
Playing them everywhere to show his independence, his originality.
All he wanted though was that loved popular stereotype,
whole alternate universes differed between them; he cared not.
He loved her truly; he did, with all his shadowy heart and soul.

He uttered her name with every breath he took, but
She only knew him as the quiet, ever-smiling friend always there to catch her when falling.
He fantasized darkly sinister dreams of simply holding her close.
She didn’t even know how much his obsession grew for her everyday.

She fell in love, that overrated infatuated love, for a little tiresome while.
He was pained to hear her even speak of that… what was his name?
Martin. Yes, that. Martin.
She thought him a perfect demon lover, a Grade-A turn on her friends somehow called him.
He delved deeper into darker dens,
Holding every frail shape in his arms to be her, seeing her everywhere.

And so my story goes, of the little child rejected by all,
Only to be rejected once more and then some more, all by the one.
A story too familiar to many, it remains to be finished.
A story so familiar to many, it remains to be told.

Sheefatunnessa Rabiah
4 Justice