Your neon drip,
I must admit,
minds me whinging,
of your bleach singeing

Call it free, you,
I'll say it's a fine tree, too,
lost in your sauce,
highlighted memes, an anime cross

But you wish it were,
when ya settle with 'zir',
toward my defense,
I'm forced to offense

Can't you see the flame?
We were forced into the same
and now you've misnamed
while also begging for claim

Wear your pain,
hair to chain,
wonder if you're sane,
to yourself,
isle of your rain,
nodding true - got it —
don’t paint me an edit

I'll lie for we,
really meaning me,
lumped to not see,
through the same branding sweep,
a class-held trench,
same heat warms my bench.

You dyed it sold —
I kept mine gold —
but frost still burns,
and truth still turns.