(This is my 400th poem. It was written before 'Sunshine in Spring' and 'Peonies in Summer', so this is in fact officially my 400th poem).

They say you need a best friend

but whenever

I try to get together

they've got excuses that never seem to end.

It's alright, I'm used to being lonely,

but manically happy

nevertheless.

You thought I'd die but here I am sat on a throne in my fortress.

Bet you wish you were like me, independent, competent, never phased.

Burning bright like a star or sun, freaking blazed.

Never dopey or dreaming, never dizzy or dazed.

I know it's only my second week,

but never again will I be meek.

No, now I am a stalker, relentless.

A wraith or ghost, scentless.

I better get what I came for,

and if I leave hearts and minds sore,

excuse me passively

while I walk on casually.

Maybe if I drown myself in glitter

I'll seem a lot less bitter.

With glitter that shimmers and shines

brighter than gemstones from fifty goldmines.

But darker on the inside like an icy cave.

Darker on the inside like a cemetery or grave.

︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎

ద ద 𖦊 ꪉ 𐀔 𐃸 ద 𖦊 ʊ

༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒ . . ༒

༒ ༒ ᜊ ༒ ༒ ༒

༒ ༒ ༒

༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒

༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒

ద ༒

༒ . ༒

༒ . . ᰔ

༒

༒