Your face, it glistens with sweat, breath so heavy…here goes:
I don’t even know where to begin.
Is it with the sadness that sits at my side, shadowed by my difference, my indifference.
I always end up isolated, not feeling of this world’s rolling over and over.
I see inside their skin,
The pain, the ugliness, the switch they turned off.
I look into eyes that don’t care to look back.
Cold, bleakness, artificial happiness, like sucking on plastic.
Where do I fit?
I think about death, hoping some lies are answered there.
Why do I need to fit?
Because being different means being misunderstood.
Why is that important?
Because being understood is everything.