Sense of belonging in the mundane world is falling like the sky descending with black clouds.
Things are falling in place with soft snaps and gentle thuds.
Standing out is losing its dark charm.
And here I am, standing in a pool of ink-blue dye dripping from my hair,
rubbing my heels in futile attempts to get rid of practicality sticking like chewing gum to a sole,
stashing my wings somewhere here-
And I am never coming back for them.
So much for fitting in.
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