Entendre

7.4: Pastel Purple

The countryside was the city's hope—
that I knew.
Where were they to get their meals?
That's what I meant.

But isn't it humorous how
the moment I stepped in the city
I've been harassed endlessly
for being a country bumpkin?

I wasn't ashamed of myself,
not one bit.
The insults always came
and I pretended not to hurt.

"The son of a farmer!", they began,
"And he reeks of poultry to boot!"
It was insulting, as I walked around
being pointed and gossiped about.

They were all problems,
each and every one of them.
Each one had a story
that I was dying to vandalize.

I hid these thoughts to myself,
for they were not of my control.
I stifled it, stopped it, but with no use.
It simply kept coming back.

The rumors began of how
I was mad. I was crazy.
Insane.
Then I really lost it.

It was also funny, wasn't it?
Because all I did was follow
their wants and wishes.
Insanity? Alright.

I'll give it to them, the craziness that
they so desire from me.
It was tiring not to act out of vengeance,
and especially holding myself back.

I would've made a scandal,
an embarrassment of myself,
if I wasn't stopped by a man
that reeked of the city.

"I like poultry—farm animals too."
He began, halting me.
"You're from the countryside, aren't you?"
He asked as I nodded.

"There's no difference, really."
He pointed out.
"Won't you allow me to defend you?"
He offered and I accepted.

He was popular,
unlike I.
And I wished to
be him.

He was steady, cool, and loved.
I was unstable, deranged, and hated.
We are always together,
yet I can never walk beside him.

He was surrounded by fans;
too much attention for me.
If I smiled, would he believe
that I was fine? I'm not okay.

I was troubled. Why do I
want him for myself?
I wanted to kill them all
so I can have him completely.

Maybe because more attention
meant more people, while less
meant lesser problems.
I only had to choose one.