Go away, fuck off, back to your bunker.
It has no title,
but understanding is vital.
Stop.
Here’s the poem:

I saw somebody.
She was beautiful.
An energy that didn’t fit,
yet she owned it.

I found out
she likes to twist and shout.
But does she like ...?

Her polar is bi,
she thinks she can fly
and of course she can.

She doesn’t need fixing.
Let her be
because she is me.

I am serenity.