Am I between the lines?
I’m not made up, I swear!
So what if I “can’t love”, it’s not a crime,
and yet you still glare
like somehow you can define
everything I am with

just
one
stare.

So what if I want neither?
Does it really matter?
Am I between your curves?
Am I between your straights too?
You get on my nerves,
like you need to straighten my skew,
like I don’t deserve
the notice you give others with the

lines 
you
drew.

Yeah I want neither.
Does it really matter?
Am I supposed to choose?

What if I want neither?
You disturb me with your views,
it just passes like a blur,
how what I think like is somehow an issue,
and it feels like my mind

is all in
a slur.

Yeah, I like neither. So…
am I supposed to be empty?
Do I have to put on a mask?
I just can’t see,
the way out of your grasp,
like I just cannot flee
from your stupid
illustrating— like I’m

just
a
draft. 

Maybe I am between your lines,
Maybe I am between your curves,
Maybe I am between your straights too,
Maybe I am supposed to choose,

But does it really matter?