Honesty is a broken glass
I was comfortable once,
numb inside my mother’s womb
Now I go about, licking wounds
taste the bitterness upon cold lips.
far away in my own ideas
when outside there is nothing clean.
I will not look in their eyes
I won’t try to figure out
what they were here for.
I will not try to feel their worth
Numb, inside their wretchedness
excuses for a small crowd who never cared.
I was miserable
but comfortable in my real skin
counted each blessing
one by bloody one.
While I was ignored and admired
as long as they didn’t have to touch
have to call, or bother at all.
walking away from all the “feed”
of pointless points
they were trying to tweet.
Makes me want to be written
out of the family will
cast aside with no ill will
no great loss, or grief to spill.
We’ll all go on just like we do
and quit pretending.
My life no longer concerns you.