I'm orderless

I'm to make my nth account on instagram, 

feeling some momentary solace,

These days have caught hold me like I shan't move like an ant on the screen,

I am just held up like a piece of perfection.

I sending the tap when say people, I'm so showy, 

I'm anything, I just know nothing about me, shameful figure with a human form.

I am intuitional , but I fear it, 

I think I'm always after it, 

I fear to turn away even, when people say it was unwanted,

I am after some beats which talk to me, 

they can hear me too,

I want to be held free, even when I am a girl with no instagram,

I want to be held human when I fall, not be put as a black sheep in your homogeneity.

I may wish big skies, bluish, but I fear they may tie me to them,

Being human means standing in between ways which could mean equally nice and quirky.

I fear about the poetry if it falls like the blabbers of a restless peep, or a words machine which looks at others with filled eyes, or I'm roughly a human which wishes constancy,

My words may sound so muddled,

imitated.