Ms. Independent,
Hellish whispers
Circle your mind
Like vultures,
You’re consumed by
This culture
Because your perfect family
Consisted of pills
And glorified vacuums
Who failed your mother
In her escape
From you.

Ms. Independent,
You throw
A thin veil
Over your head
To cover your sadness
And surround yourself
With robots
Who cram the norm
Down your throat
And you ask for more.

But not everybody
Is like you,
Ms. Independent.

Oh, Ms. Independent,
Why are you
So cruel?
Have you learned nothing
From your doting mother
Or the guardian
Whose doorstep she has left you on?

Haven’t you felt
Your heart be impaled
Time and time again
By your own eyes
As they watch your life
Sink to the bottom of
A Mariana Trench
Full of feel-bad times
And cupcakes sprinkled with
Your own blood
Dripping from your wrist?

Oh,
Ms. Independent,
Where’s your dependence
On the girl who offers you help
The real help
That makes you feel like
The sun was made for you
Handcrafted by God himself?
The girl you push to the edge
Of her patience
Because maybe she’s
Not like you,
But she holds her arms open anyways
And takes the 4th-degree burns
As your white-hot fire
Erupts from your throat in the form of
Words
And meaningless violence,

Your meaningless violence
Has caught nobody’s concern,
Because Ms. Independent
You were so caught up in
Everyone else
And in numbing your own pain
That you forgot to
Be the real independent
The independent
That makes you stand out
Like a sore thumb,
But a charming sore
That wouldn’t go away
Because you’re so lovable
And loving
That you create a hole
Whenever you leave.

But
Ms. Independent
You choose to be stale
A re-hash
That everyone gets sick
And tired
Of.
Your plastic words
And toxic nature
Make you ever-so-bitter
Like coffee without sugar
Or lemon without tea
And their face puckers
Because you’re so sour

And the truth is
Ms. Independent
Without your paper friends
Or your paper looks
You’re a shell of a human
A husk of a talented girl
And yet another hopeless case
In the sea of people
And shadows alike.