The Rebel

There are all to many boys like me.

It makes me wonder, am I really a rebel?

If I weren’t it’d be no skin of my nose-

Though I suppose, as stupid as it is, I pride myself in being alternative.

There’s something so traditional in the concept of a teenage misfit.

While pushing the boundaries, I feel strangely safe.

I know that many before me have fought and screamed and drank.

And they survived and managed to thrive.

I strive to create, albeit grimy, filthy art.

I want to immerse myself in all the bad.

Art can come from dirt.

That’s what beauty is.