ain’t any good at being human

too many rough edges 

that were never shaved off

it’s as if the gentle hands that made me

quit before they were finished

leaving a square

where a circle should lie

but today

i am made of smoke

insubstantial

untouchable

following a vapor trail

fed by the ashes

of a girl without a name

on the city streets

of a neglected world

that I inhabit forever

and however many times I squeeze into my sphere

molding my edges to fit it

however many times I pretend

to be who they want

i will never quite be able to rest comfortably

in the cages they have adorned me with

under the pretense of society

but I am always someone else

stalking the misty edges of reality

forgotten

alone

but never 

quite

whole

broken glass shattered around me

something different

again

another circle

to smooth my angles out to

but this time

this time

maybe

i 

won’t.