Once I drew a pretty picture
A life led organized by me
Nothing wavers, all a fixture
I yearn for this alone you see

Once you helped me, organizing
My other hand, my extra eye
Now your outcasts need downsizing
Reject surely one was I

Now broken, unsure words I utter
Into depths of unplugged phone
With mismatched socks and peanut butter
Behind my window all alone

Poet's notes:
*points empathatically at Magik* She thought of the title! Poem couldn't exist if not for her! Actually, it ironic: this happened kind of backwards. She inspired the poem, I, admittedly, suggested the Kaito x Aoko thing. I guess it's a pretty decent poem for having been written hastily during socials clas (facinating as Napoleon is, my attention is not easily held).