See me: I’m a very strange fruit
My ugly life doesn’t quite fit
It never has
given your constrictions
Your positive glow, your outlook,
the one that binds me so
Real life doesn’t quite fit your restrictions
I wonder on things endlessly,
incessant terrible things,
play across my mind,
like tennis for eternity.
Right, wrong, right, wrong.
Is this right? Is this wrong? My life regrets its song
Do I sing a false happy melody?
Do I sing my song?
My fear of fear restricts me so
Acceptance is a concept,
invisible, cold, and running wild
With nowhere left to go,
it dies upon contact,
with pitch fork communities,
running free, running wild.
Judgement passes quickly
We’re taught this from a child.